HYDRA Got Him First
by MoonlitePage
Summary: HYDRA finds Steve Rogers frozen in the arctic long before America does, but Steve has a plan to get himself and Bucky free. It just takes a little longer than he expected. Established Stucky, Winter Soldier!Bucky, Winter Soldier!Steve, AU.
1. Chapter 1

Hearing was the first sense to return. Specifically he could hear voices. There were at least four that he could identify, but they weren't speaking English or even French, which he knew enough of that he could communicate if needed. After listening for several minutes, as he kept his breathing steady, he finally figured it out. They were speaking _Russian_. Regardless of how he got… whatever he was (because he obviously wasn't on the plane anymore even if he was still freezing) Russian was a bad sign.

Slowly, as subtly as he could, he started wiggling his fingers and toes. Testing to see how much strength he had and if he could fight his way out if he had to. As he did, he listened closely for anyone that may have noticed him moving. With him focusing so intensely on his hearing it got more powerful until he could even hear each individual heartbeat in the room. There were four close to him (the people occasionally poking or prodding at him, he assumed) but further away there were seven more. Six were evenly spaced and equal distance away. Guards, most likely.

But the last was by far the most interesting. Everyone else he could hear had increased heart rates, from excitement or nerves or just adrenaline, maybe. The ones near him conversed in undertones and he could hear the familiar scritch-scratch of a multiple pens on paper. The guards would occasionally shuffle their feet or adjust their grip on a gun. But this seventh heartbeat was slow and steady, never faltering, and the individual made no other noise. Like a statue with a beating heart. Strangely, he could feel eyes on him from that direction. Consistent and different somehow from the others, like the individual was looking into his soul or puzzling out all his secrets. It was slightly disconcerting.

Before he could consider it further something happened which made the ones near him speak louder and move away. With them distracted, and enough feeling back in his limbs to be reasonably confident in his strength, he decided to make his move. Using the sound to guide him he flipped up from the table and kicked one man (a doctor in a white coat) across the room. As he did, his eyes rapidly took in the details he hadn't been able to notice by sound.

There were three other doctors, all closer to the table and easy enough to take down. There were the six guards around the room he had noticed before who, even though they had guns aimed at him, weren't shooting. The room was on the smaller side, with steel coated walls and a heavy vault door. There was the table he'd lain on (which he threw with surprising strength into two of the guards and silently thanked the serum for his quick recovery) and nearby was a chair with strange mechanical attachments. Otherwise the room was empty of furniture.

He had a split second to remember there was another unknown in the room before said unknown was in front of him. He hadn't heard a thing; it was like the man had teleported. A punch to the chest sent Steve flying back into the wall (and god did that hurt; they hadn't even taken his suit off and he'd definitely gotten a bruised rib or two). As Steve tried to catch his breath he took in the unknown man. He was slightly shorter that Steve (slightly), with shoulder length brown hair that did not look properly cared for, wore a black mask covering the lower half of his face paired with intimidating black body armor, and a metal left arm with a red star near the shoulder.

Steve had seconds to catch his breath, the very few seconds it took the man to stride up to him, before that metal arm was around his throat and he was being pushed against the wall. This close to the other man's face he could see blue eyes, strangely dead blue eyes, that were staring unflinchingly at his face. But he needed to break the man's surprisingly powerful grip quick or this was going to be the shortest escape attempt ever. He felt slightly guilty for it, but a carefully placed kick to the groin (not at full strength; he wasn't rude enough to do that even to Russian kidnappers) got him free.

He followed it up with a punch to the face that was, to his complete and utter shock, blocked by the metal arm. He had expected the kick to put the man out of commission for at least a few seconds longer even if he was enhanced. The man used his momentary shock to throw Steve to the ground and, after an embarrassingly brief struggle, had locked him in a choke hold.

Steve scrambled to find purchase on the metal arm around his neck, but this man's legs were more than strong enough to keep down the rest of him too. So he went for the face. Tried to find eyes or anything he could use to get the man to let go. He was already fighting dirty so it was what it was. But the man obviously knew what he was trying to do and would pull his head away before Steve could get close. Never once did he loosen his grip, not even when Steve clawed at his cheeks hard enough to draw blood.

Steve's vision was starting to go fuzzy around the edges when he finally got a hold of the mask and yanked it off. The man tightened his grip and Steve choked for real. The mask fell to the floor as he tried to pull the man's metal arm off with both of his. He couldn't. It was like trying to bend his shield (which he'd tried out of curiosity's sake one night and found he couldn't even make the metal creak). For the briefest moment he thought he was going to die as black encroached on his vision and his entire body went tingly and numb.

"солдат." That sharp word cut through the room and immediately the grip around Steve's neck loosened. Not enough he could break free, but enough he could take in a few desperate gasping breaths. It was like having an asthma attack. He felt the metal arm loosen further as he did, but this time it felt less intentional since it gave him a tiny bit of wiggle room (not that he could actually get free). The speaker said a few more things in Russian, always with that sharp bark that made it sound like an order.

Then the speaker moved to stand where Steve could see him. He looked mildly different from everyone else. He wasn't a doctor or a guard or like the man pinning him (though Steve was fairly sure there was no one like the man pinning him). Instead the speaker wore a suit and a decidedly victorious smile that edged towards cocky. "Hello, Captain. Welcome back to the land of the living." The man said, a Russian accent tinting his words.

"Where am I?" Steve growled, though he had an idea already. He emphasized his point with another attempt to break free that yielded no different results than it had previously. Whoever it was they had holding him down was skilled and strong, at least as strong as him.

"Siberia, Captain. In a HYDRA base." The man said and Steve froze.

"I destroyed HYDRA." Steve objected and the man nodded.

"You certainly tried your best to. But if you cut off one head…" The man didn't have to finish. Steve finished it for him.

"Two more grow back." Steve had never heard himself speak with so much malice.

The man smiled. "Yes. Now…" He straightened up and barked another order to someone in the room behind Steve. To Steve's shock he felt the man holding him flinch: it was subtle enough no one else would have noticed but they were so close he couldn't help but. They were more or less ignored, though, as the others moved around in the room no doubt following the suited man's orders. Steve made a few more attempts to get free, but just like before the man holding him was a statue. Powerful, unmoving, and utterly silent.

After a brief couple of minutes someone approached them holding what Steve thought had to be handcuffs, but they were unlike any handcuffs he had ever seen. They were bulky, made in two separate pieces, and had blue streaks around the outside cracking with what Steve thought might be electricity. He put up a fight as they clipped them on, but it made no difference. After they were on, he was dragged to his feet by two guards and he tried to pull free. The metal creaked but didn't give and Steve was surprised to realize his wrists were probably going to break before the metal did.

"You can stop trying, captain. Those cuffs were designed for and tested on a super soldier just like you. They won't break. Sit him down." The man ordered, in English this time. Steve was dragged over to the chair and forced to sit in it. He glared at everyone, but the hands on his shoulders were almost as unrelenting as the man in the mask, though not as strong.

Said man had gotten to his feet once they had taken Steve from his hold and was now standing, still as a statue, a few steps behind the man in the suit with a blank expression on his face. There were claw marks on his cheek from Steve, from which blood had covered the rest of his cheek and down part of his neck. But none of that registered because looking back at him was _Bucky's __face!_

"Bucky." He whispered. The man barely even reacted, beyond a slight twitch as he met Steve's eyes. "Bucky!" Steve struggled seriously this time, threw his shoulders, whatever he could to break free and get to his friend. To no avail. "What did you do to him, you bastards!? What have you done to him?!" Steve screamed.

Two more guards rushed forward and helped hold him down, pushing him until his back was pressed against the seat back, but still he fought. Even when metal cuffs clinked shut around his ankles and the handcuffs separated only to stick to the metal of the chair while two more cuffs closed around his biceps. He tried hard to pull free but couldn't.

And all the while Bucky stood there, watching expressionless as Steve struggled. The man in the suit set a hand on Bucky's human shoulder with a dark smile on his face. "Remarkable, isn't it? What proper training can do." He said and for the briefest moment Steve saw fear flash in Bucky's eyes at the word 'training'. "He's been our loyal Asset for 25 years. Our Winter Soldier. You'd be proud though. It took us nearly fifteen to break and train him."

Steve's entire world narrowed down to a pinprick as the words sank in. "Forty years? I missed forty years?" He whispered and the man nodded.

"You've been dead for forty years. No one would imagine you could have survived this long. And I think you'll make a wonderful counterpart to our soldier." The man actually ran his fingers down Bucky's uninjured cheek. Bucky blinked, and it was slightly slower than before like he wanted to close his eyes or flinch or pull away. But he didn't.

Steve was trying to break free before he could even help it. He was furious that this man would dare touch Bucky like that. His Bucky, who he'd already failed because apparently somehow HYDRA had kept him prisoner for _forty_ years. The man just laughed. "That's sweet, captain. How much you care about him. I wasn't there, it was before my time, but I heard he _begged_ for you. But now I think it's time to start your own training. Wipe him." The suited man ordered one of the men in a lab coat. And Bucky definitely flinched at that order.

The doctor was hesitant to approach the chair but took up a post at the computer attached to it and started typing. He paused as the metal plated over Steve's head started crackling with electricity. To apparently everyone's surprise, Bucky took a half step forward. The man in the suit looked at Bucky and crossed his arms.

"проблема, солдат?" The man asked in Russian.

Bucky blinked a few times as he finally broke that stoic mask. He looked confused, unsure before he shook his head. "нет." He answered softly, his voice gravely and raw, as he took a step back and his expression went blank again.

The man in the suit studied him before he walked over and picked something up from a tray one of the men in a lab coat was holding. Which he gave to Bucky. "We wouldn't want the captain to bite his tongue now, would we?" He said. Bucky shook his head stiffly, like he wasn't totally sure. Whether in his answer or because he was answering at all Steve had no idea. Either way the slight shake was ignored. "Give it to him." The man ordered.

Like a marionette Bucky accepted the thing, walked over to him, and held out what Steve could now see was a blue curved piece of plastic. "Open." Bucky ordered. It was sharp and cold. Totally unlike anything he'd heard from Bucky ever before.

"Bucky." Steve pleaded softly, but his expression didn't change in the slightest. He just held out the thing and waited. "Come on, Buck, please." Steve pleaded again and this time Bucky's expression furrowed slightly.

"Open." He repeated, more firmly. Steve felt his heart sink but cautiously opened his mouth. Bucky set the thing inside fairly gently, on his lower teeth rather than shoving it down his throat like Steve almost half expected. Bucky stepped back and that's when Steve realized that the cuts on his cheek had already almost healed. They were just thin pink lines. Just as his brain thought up the question of 'how' he thought up the answer: Zola, and Azzano.

It was almost impossible to talk with the thing in his mouth but as tempted as he was to ask, he didn't risk spitting it out because they'd just put it back in. Probably dirty and Steve didn't want to know what was on the floor and definitely didn't want it in his mouth, serum or no. The man in the suit smiled. "You asked what we did to your friend, captain? You're about to find out first hand." He nodded at the man on the computer.

One of the guards pushed his head back until it was against the headrest and then the metal plates were lowering. Steve thought he knew what pain was after getting the serum. Or even after watching Bucky fall (especially now that he knew what had come since). But when those plates touched he knew he'd been wrong. This… this was agony. He lasted mere minutes before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up moving. Someone was helping him, sort of carrying him as they walked. He had one arm over their shoulder and their hand was on his waist. It was someone strong. He knew this. They used to do this all the time. Strong arms, but always gentle and steady, would carry him home after he got into fights and then tend to his wounds. Whose though? He couldn't remember clearly. It was blurry and painful. But he wanted to remember. This person was important. Very, very important.

His heart started racing in his chest and his breath picked up. That's right. He struggled to breathe as a kid and this person would take care of him. Always, always, had taken care of him. His pounding heart ached at the thought. But… maybe it wasn't his heart that was aching because he'd given it to someone. This very important person that he Just. Couldn't. Remember. Why couldn't he remember?

It came back to him like a lightning bolt. He was Steve. And his heart was Bucky. Bucky… who had been hurt and needed him. Steve opened his eyes and his head snapped up but he immediately regretted it as everything swayed nauseatingly. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he groaned, but that strong body kept him steady. He glanced over and was unsurprised to see it was Bucky.

Still maskless and his expression blank. But Bucky nonetheless and Steve couldn't hurt him. Wouldn't, unless he absolutely had to. And they had to have known it. That's why they made him his escort. So Steve spent the time trying to recall his life and was becoming increasingly concerned with the huge blank spaces and blurred faces. The lack of details and dates. Then they reached a cell door.

Someone opened it for them (a guard who had been waiting there) and Bucky tugged him inside. Steve didn't fight as Bucky helped him to sit, not super gently but he wasn't rough, on the cot. Then he walked out and closed the door with a clang. He took up a post on the other side of the narrow hallway and turned back into a statue. The man in the suit arrived and, after a quick study of Bucky, turned his attention on Steve.

"You don't look too poorly. That's good." The man said and Steve glared.

"What… did you… do to me?" He gasped out and his throat was sore. Had he been screaming? It felt like it.

"A memory wipe. With the serum it takes a few sessions to stick, but it's very effective. Sleep well. You'll need it." The man said before he turned to walk away. He paused briefly and gave Bucky some hushed words in Russian. Bucky nodded once and the man left. Steve rubbed his face and took a slow breath.

There were a lot of things he just couldn't remember. He could feel their absence keenly. They were empty white or black spaces in his head. But when he tried to push, tried to remember, nothing came of it but a pain not unlike what he'd felt in that chair. But he remembered Bucky. Remembered their first meeting in a back alley that ended with matching bruises and bloody noses. Remembered their first date (to an art museum because Bucky was a selfless romantic sap) and their first night together only a few days later. Remembered seeing Bucky on Zola's table in Azzano, mumbling and delirious. Remembered seeing Bucky fall.

He inhaled sharply and stood up, pacing the small space like a caged tiger. The cell was barely big enough for him to take four steps in any direction before he hit a wall. After pacing for a bit he stopped and studied Bucky, who had not moved even the tiniest inch. He didn't look too bad overall. But his serum would make sure he was at peak health just like Steve's did for him. That didn't mean he was actually okay.

He looked different. His hair was shoulder length and Steve had never seen it that long. It looked soft though and vaguely he wondered what it would feel like to touch it. To run his fingers through it. There was the shiny metal arm that made Bucky stand with his shoulders slightly tilted because of how heavy it was. The intimidating black outfit with the armored vest and a lot of pockets and holsters for weapons (though he was currently unarmed) that would have dulled Bucky to death with it's monotone color scheme. And his eyes… the life and warmth they had always held, even after Azzano, was gone. They were dull, blank and lifeless in a way that made Steve's stomach curl unpleasantly.

He stumbled back over to the cot and sat. He was a brilliant tactician, but even he couldn't think of a way out of this. He needed to do something though. Before he forgot. So he couldn't forget. Or so he'd hopefully at least remember. They hadn't cleared his suit pockets which seemed like a major oversight. But then again he was the idiot without a gun which (assuming it still worked after apparently forty years frozen in the arctic) _would have really helped him to get out_.

His brain even supplied it in Bucky's sergeant voice.

As he patted down his pockets he did find one thing. A pen. He glanced at Bucky, who was watching him but hadn't moved, before he pushed down his pants. He wrote (slightly amazed the pen worked), as close to his groin as he could, 'I am Steve Rogers, Capt. America. My heart is Sgt. James Barnes, the Winter Soldier.' Once he was sure it wouldn't smear he covered it back up.

To his surprise, Bucky had approached the door. He was standing just outside it as he watched Steve closely. Steve swallowed and got up slowly. Bucky didn't move away as he approached the door. "Hey, Buck." Steve said softly.

Bucky expression flickered, an emotion there and gone too quickly for Steve to identify. "Hey. It's okay. You know me. Don't you? We've been best friends for a very long time. You can trust me." Steve continued.

Bucky flinched and shook his head slightly. Steve knew he was hurting as his brain would try to push through the lightening hiding his memories like Steve had felt, but if he was going to have any chance to escape he _needed_ Bucky on his side. Cautiously he reached out and touched Bucky's cheek. The wounds had healed completely now but the blood was still there; HYDRA hadn't even let him clean it off. "Come on, Buck. You know me." He pleaded softly.

"No." Bucky almost whimpered the word, and his voice sounded raw. Even worse than Steve felt talking. He probably didn't use it much or he screamed regularly enough to wreck it even with the serum and that made Steve a little sad. Bucky had always loved to talk and Steve could listen for hours. Bucky refused to meet Steve's eyes, but he didn't pull away from Steve's hand.

"Yes, you do. You're my best friend." Steve insisted gently.

"Shut up." Bucky groaned fiercely. His whole body was trembling slightly and Steve could hear his metal arm whirling as both his hands closed into fists.

"You're my friend. My heart. 'Til the end of the line." Steve continued, almost over him. Bucky shook his head hard enough he pulled free from Steve's touch and even backed away slightly. "'Til the end of the line." Steve repeated.

"Shut up!" The fierce sudden cry was accompanied by Bucky slamming his metal fist into the cell door hard enough it bent a little. Steve was startled, but he didn't flinch. He wasn't afraid. Bucky was panting heavily and refused to meet Steve's eyes, keeping his trained on the ground. Bucky's metal hand grabbed one of the metal bars of the cell door and squeezed until it no wider than a pencil in his fist. "Shut up. Just… Shut. Up." He growled through gritted teeth.

Slowly he looked up and Steve faltered. Because Bucky looked utterly _terrified_. He'd always been the strong one between the two of them. Able to smile and put on a good face no matter what. Even the few times Steve had seen him break down there had been a few tears and hands desperately grabbing his shirt seeking comfort. But he had never seen Bucky look like this. "Buck." He whispered as he reached out. Every part of him, even those blank spaces in his mind, were screaming at him to HELP!

Bucky backed away and pressed himself against the opposite wall. His human hand was shaking and he was several shades paler than Steve had ever seen him. Slowly, as his panting lessened, he looked up towards Steve. His expression was no longer blank. He was frightened, confused, hurting, but most importantly he seemed recognized Steve.

"Stevie?" He practically whispered and Steve nodded as he tried to take in a shaky breath because he couldn't breathe all of a sudden. "Stevie." Bucky repeated, amazed and desperate, as he straightened up from where he'd slumped against the wall. Bucky took his hand, which was still sticking through the bars and pressed it to his cheek, holding it there with his human hand. Steve was happy to let him

"Hiya, Buck." Steve replied just as softly and Bucky made a noise that sounded vaguely like a suppressed sob. His grip tightened and Steve stroked his cheek with his thumb. "Missed you." Steve said softly and Bucky nodded. He kissed Steve's palm when he noticed the tears on Steve's face, that the blond could feel but didn't care to wipe away.

"Love you." Bucky whispered. His voice was still rough, but it was Bucky. Warm and fond and playful and so sincere.

"Love you too." Steve replied quietly. He was about to say something when Bucky suddenly crumpled to the ground with a pained cry. "Buck!" Steve tried to reach the man holding some kind of electrified stick to the back of Bucky's neck, but he couldn't reach far enough through the bars.

Bucky was on his knees, hands pressed to the floor and his head bowed as his body shook. He was making a high pitched whining sound that reminded Steve far too much of an animal in pain. "Stop, please, stop it!" Steve begged.

The man just smirked and pressed it harder, forcing Bucky's head down further and the whine stopped. Steve could see Bucky was struggling for breath instead. "довольно." That sharp voice from before, the suited man, issued the command and the guard frowned but the electricity, which Steve had been able to see crackling up and down the stick, was shut off. He still didn't let Bucky up, but Steve saw the way Bucky's body slumped with relief.

Steve's knees gave out and he sank down to the ground. To Bucky's level. The only man he would ever kneel for. He reached out and touched Bucky's human hand. It closed into a fist but didn't pull away and Steve felt when Bucky's tears landed on the back of his hand. "I'm sorry." He whispered. Bucky still didn't really react but he reached around with his thumb to stroke Steve's fingers.

The little gesture was enough. Steve gave his hand a gentle squeeze before he stood, proud and strong. They would not get him on his knees. The man in the suit was smiling at him anyway. "Would you like to see what happens to the soldier when he remembers?" He asked.

Steve swallowed. "It isn't his fault." He insisted and the man shrugged.

"But he remembered. And the soldier knows what happens when he remembers." This was directed towards Bucky, who flinched and curled away from the man, still on his hands and knees like an animal. "Come then, soldier. Get up." The man ordered.

Bucky got up mechanically, head still bowed and his arms limp. Steve could see his legs were shaking slightly with the effort but his face had returned to that blank statue expression from before, with the exception of his eyes. His eyes were terrified and resigned. The man in the suit nodded down the hall. The guard with the electric stick kept it off but pressed to Bucky's back as they practically marched down the hall.

"I'll let you out, пекун, to watch but know that any rebellion from you, any attempt to fight or hurt me, and the soldier will pay for it." The man in the suit warned. Steve took a few breaths to push down his rising temper and he nodded once. The door was opened and Steve followed the man down the hall, after Bucky and the other guard.

They returned to the room Steve had woken up in. The table was missing and there was a new set of guards and men in lab coats. They watched him closely, but then he saw Bucky was in the chair from before. "No!" He leapt forward, but two guards grabbed his arms. He could have, would have, pulled free easily enough except for the painful jolt of electricity that unexpectedly ran up his spine.

He dropped to his knees with a cry and the two guards adjusted their grips. Holding firmly onto his arms and rotating his shoulders to something that didn't give him much leverage and that hurt. He had to take a moment just to catch his breath. No wonder Bucky had reacted like he had; that electric stick was painful. It wasn't as bad as the chair, or even a gunshot wound, but enough to take his breath away.

The man in the suit was shaking his head and sighed heavily. "You'll learn, пекун. You will learn." He warned before he walked over to the chair. He held out the plastic thing (maybe a new one, Steve didn't know) and Bucky accepted it without needing to be told. The man pushed him back until Bucky was laying in the chair like Steve had.

The clamps shut, including two over his metal arm, and the plates sparked to life. Steve watched as Bucky's expression went from terrified to resigned then blank in an instant. Then the plates touched his face and Bucky's whole body jolted. Steve heard his muffled scream that just didn't stop and his chest burned in sympathy. Going through it had been hard but watching Bucky, watching his heart, in pain like that… It was a thousand times worse.


	3. Chapter 3

The Asset had been injured. It was rare, and rarer still since his Guardian had come. The newer guards, the ones who hadn't seen them before and liked to gawk, slipped in frequently to try and get a glimpse of the Asset while he healed in cryosleep. They never got close to the tank though, and most didn't even enter the room once they noticed him. He was the Asset's Guardian, his protector, and he would not allow them near enough to hurt his treasure.

This was the first time they hadn't put him under at the same time. But it was because they had another mission. As soon as the Asset was healed they would be sent out again. The Guardian would wait. He was patient. Not nearly as good as the Asset at remaining still, but he could ignore the stiffness and the hunger and the thirst that clawed at him. That always seemed to be eating him from the inside out.

He did not think he had always been this thin, always felt this hungry, though it had a certain familiarity to it. But thinking was not his job, unless it involved protecting the Asset, and unnecessary thought meant The Chair. Besides, he barely needed to think to fight anymore. Sometimes missions required a little more strategy, when something did not go according to plan. But he could be strategic. He was better at it than the Asset, even.

He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he missed the Asset. Despite the fact he was sitting so close. The Asset was never out of his arms reach, ever. And the Asset talked less even than himself so the silence wasn't unusual either. But there was something missing when the Asset was frozen that made it different somehow. Made him lonely. But he could wait. He could wait.

* * *

The rooftop was still and otherwise unoccupied. The Asset lay on his stomach less than an arms length away, his eye pressed to the scope of his rifle. He had not moved in two hours, fourteen minutes, and counting. He'd gone for longer before. But the Guardian could hear the steady heartbeat in his chest and that was enough. His own weapon rested within easy reach next to his leg. It was an unbreakable silver disk that weighed next to nothing and bore a single red star like the one on the Asset's arm (he liked that thought; that he and the Asset were a matched set).

When they have given it to him there had been… memories. He didn't want them, because memories meant time in The Chair. It had taken three wipes for the weapon to stop bringing up memories and then he'd _finally_ been allowed on missions. He never mentioned that, despite The Chair, he could remember details like that. He remembered the Asset and parts of past missions they had shared together. He wasn't supposed to. The Asset didn't, at least he didn't think the Asset did. But the way they could communicate without words or gestures, even without meeting one another's eyes sometimes, spoke differently.

After a quick check to make sure everything was still secure and unchanged (it was) he settled back into his post next to the Asset and drew out his knife. He lifted the pocket on his thigh that he had fixed to be removable and exposed the skin underneath. Pale with light hair like the hair on his head. But more importantly, the letters. How long he'd had them or how he'd gotten them, he didn't know. Didn't remember. If he were honest he had stopped reading the actual words they formed a long time ago.

But every time they were alone on a mission and he had time, he would carve them into his skin again. To make sure the scars didn't fade. It just seemed so utterly important. Like a mission or an order that rang in his head unceasingly. 'Don't let them fade'. He had just made the first cut when the Asset's human hand, the one closer to him, reached out like a flash and caught his wrist. The Guardian looked at him, waiting.

"Do not decrease your functionality." The Asset growled without even pulling away from the scope, just as he always did when the Guardian did this. The Asset's voice was raw, hardly ever used. But it sent echoes through the Guardian's brain that was accompanied by warm feelings in his chest.

"I won't." He promised. The Asset pulled away from the scope long enough to look at his face then nodded once and returned to his position. And the Guardian went to work re-carving the letters. He did it several times, over and over as they healed quickly, to make sure they scarred. Until his internal chronometer went off. Three hours, five minutes since they had taken their posts. It was time.

He fixed the pocket back to its place and lifted his weapon, strapping it securely to his arm as he stood. It took mere moments for him to shrug away the stiffness sitting so still had caused and then he waited. One minute passed. Two. Three. Four. The Asset finally shifted, adjusting slightly to get his target in his sights.

Five. The gunshot was silenced, but the glass shattering in the building across the street was not. He tensed, ready and waiting for the guards to burst through the door to the roof as he had been briefed would happen. To give the Asset time to clean up before they went across the street so the Asset could eliminate their second target. Just under twenty seconds passed, which was twelve seconds less than what the Asset needed to put away the rifle. The door burst open and out came a dozen men in poorly hidden body armor with guns in their hands.

The Guardian ducked, covering himself and the Asset with his weapon as bullets filled the air. It took the guards an embarrassingly long time to realize their strategy was useless. His weapon was entirely bulletproof. The moment the bullets stopped he flung the weapon at them. It bounced off two chests, knocking both men down, before it was back in his hands and he was close enough to fight hand to hand.

Un-enhanced humans, even in droves like this, were soft. Slow. Easy. His weapon and fist made short work of them and he was careful not to let any pass him by un-touched. The last man he slammed into the door to the roof hard enough the metal door creaked. And up from somewhere in the black part of his brain came a command. 'Leave no witnesses.'

He had killed the last one. Had hit him hard enough to hear the man's bones snap under his weapon. It was likely he had killed some of the others because he was strong enough to shatter bones even without meaning to, but there were certainly still witnesses. He turned to finish the job, only to see the Asset had already done it. His rifle was packed up and waiting near the roof's edge, but the knife in his hands was more than enough. The smell of blood was strong from the numerous throats the Asset had slit open.

He watched as the Asset killed the last one and they both visually swept one another's bodies for injuries. It was an age old habit, one that predated the Asset and his Guardian. He didn't know where it had come from, because there was nothing to him before becoming the Asset's Guardian. But that was okay. It served them well. The Asset nodded at the other building across the street and the Guardian drew the grappling gun from his belt. It launched two hooks, one in either direction with a wire between them.

One hook dug into the small building that contained the stairwell entrance. The other dug into the outer wall of the building across the street. He adjusted his weapon as the Asset slid the rifle bag onto his back and nodded once. He nodded back and the Asset grabbed the wire with his metal arm. He didn't falter as he stepped off the building to slide across and his Guardian was quick to follow. He may not have a metal arm, but his gun served the same purpose here.

The Asset broke through the window on the seventh floor and the Guardian followed, retracting the grappling hook while the Asset covered them. They walked together, him first with the Asset following. There were a few guards here too, which he knocked down and the Asset finished off with a knife. No sense in wasting ammo and even silenced gunshots were more likely to draw attention. They reached their target in four minutes; the large, wooden but reinforced with metal double doors that protected the office.

The metal locks in place were no match for the Asset's arm. He ripped the door open with relative ease and bolted into the room, swift as a panther and just as silent. There were a few silenced gunshots from in the room, followed by muffled cries or wet gurgling. The Guardian did one last check down both halls before he joined his treasure.

The Asset had taken out the guards and pinned their target to his chair with knives through his wrists. The man was blubbering and crying, pleading and trying to negotiate. The Asset just glanced at his Guardian as he approached them. "Whatever they've paid you I'll double it. Please! Just let me live!" The target begged.

The Guardian tilted his head. It was far from the first time a target had begged, nor the first that had promised payment. He didn't understand why. It never changed anything. He just stepped close and pulled the HYDRA pin free from the man's shirt collar. That made the man swallow his pleas. "HYDRA doesn't tolerate fools." He said, as he had been instructed too. Almost every target from their new handler included a message to deliver and so he delivered it because he had the stronger voice.

"HYDRA? You're HYDRA?" The man asked with a terrified squeak. The Guardian shared a look with the Asset. It was one of the rare occasions when the Asset had the hint of an expression and the Guardian knew what he was saying even without words.

'He is an idiot', accompanied by an eyeroll. Plain as day on the Asset's face. It made him a strange feeling bubble up in his chest; it was laughter, he knew, but he didn't let it out. The Guardian stepped back and the Asset moved forward, his expression blank once again. He drew one of the knife's free from the man's wrist, flipped it around, and cut the man's throat with a single swipe. One minute until the target would be beyond help. A relatively slow death. The Asset pulled up the other knife free and cleaned them both of the man's blood on their target's shirt before sheathing them.

By then, their time was done and the man was as good as dead. They left as a pair, ducked into the stairwell without witnesses, changed into civilian clothes and disguised their weapons on the way down to be less conspicuous, and disappeared into the crowds gathering on the street outside the building as a pair. Always as a pair. Now they could go back to base and rest, until they were required again.


	4. Chapter 4

The Guardian had never seen a handler this… emotional. The man (Pierce, who was one of the first handlers to ever give his name) was pacing around the room. He had barely said a word in the almost hour the Asset and his Guardian had been awake. He was too upset. After they had been escorted to their usual briefing room the Asset had gone to work tending to his weapons. Checking and cleaning them, while his Guardian kept watch.

Handler Pierce had come in when they were still thawing from cryo and it had made the Guardian nervous. To be so close to his treasure, but still too weak to protect him while an unknown man could touch or hurt his treasure at any time. But nothing had come of it. Handler Pierce had just looked over them both and then nodded and said "they'll do".

Then another man had entered the room in a rush and whispered "they've been given clearance to move" to Handler Pierce, and that had set him pacing.

The scientists and technicians ran them through the usual procedure (The Chair followed by Words, once they were capable of movement). After that the Asset had taken a seat at the table where his weapons were laid out and he started taking care of them almost mechanically. He was still suffering from the wipe and the little flickers of personality the Guardian usually began to see once they were out on assignment were not visible yet. But he took up his post just behind the Asset's shoulder, his weapon within easy reach, and waited for Handler Pierce to start giving them the mission briefing.

The Asset had just finished cleaning up his weapons and was in the process of holstering them when Handler Pierce finally turned to face them. "This mission will be difficult. More difficult than anything you've ever done." He began. Neither of them flinched. Difficult did not scare them. They weren't allowed to be scared. Handler Pierce set something down on the table and tapped it.

Several images with text appeared in the air above the device. Holographs, his mind supplied, and he forced down the niggling sense of wrongness about them that came from the blackness trapped behind electricity. He turned his focus to studying the images. Their next targets. There was a surprising number of them.

Anthony Stark, code name Ironman (his last name felt vaguely familiar in a way the Guardian knew better than to explore). Natalia Romanova, code name Black Widow (a Red Room defector, now part of S.H.I.E.L.D.). Thor Odinson, no code name (who was an alien from outer space?). Clint Barton, code name Hawkeye (part of S.H.I.E.L.D.). Bruce Banner, code name Hulk (the human is ordinary, but the Hulk has never been stopped). Together they made up the team known worldwide as the Avengers.

Handler Pierce's statement is correct; this will be the most difficult mission he and the Asset have ever attempted. "You will go to a deserted HYDRA base and they will be lured to you, where you will take them out. You are skilled enough for this assignment, but do not underestimate them. This mission is priority alpha and must be completed or everything HYDRA has been working so hard for could fall apart. Any questions?" Handler Pierce explained.

The Guardian looked at the Asset, who gave a subtle shake of his head. It was difficult, but straightforward. "No, sir." The Guardian answered for them both. Handler Pierce nodded.

"Then go. You'll have whatever backup we can spare, but ordinary humans won't be a match for the Avengers like you will." Handler Pierce added as the Asset stood. He led the way out, to the plane hangar where their usual long distance transportation was waiting, along with a number of ordinary men in the standard attire for HYDRA agents going into a fight.

The Guardian got on the plane first and the Asset followed. The plane was certain to be secure, but they checked anyway. Once they were seated the other agents joined them, giving them a wide berth. The plane took off immediately and the Guardian shared a silent conversation with the Asset, which ended with the Asset closing his eyes to rest. He recovered a little more slowly than the Guardian did from cryo and the sleep would help him be ready for the fight.

But the Guardian would not rest. He did not need sleep, not for several days assuming he was not injured, but also he would not leave his treasure unprotected in a vulnerable state. But the agents must have been briefed in how to act around them. They stayed outside the boundary and kept their conversations quiet enough not to wake the Asset. Overall, it was a calm journey, which was not a word the Guardian commonly associated with their life.

They arrived at an airport in four hours, forty-two minutes, and traveled to the base by car for a total travel time of five hours, fourteen minutes. The Guardian stayed close to the Asset as they walked through the base, memorizing the layout and making sure it was secure. They set up traps and made plans. They ate, because both of them functioned better with calories and because they had the time. And then they waited, taking turns resting for 90 minute cycles.

It was nearly sunrise the next morning when the call came in. The Avengers were on their way. The Guardian and the Asset took up their posts and waited. The wait was short and then, from several floors above on the ground level, something exploded. After that they were fighting. But that was what they've been trained to do and they do it well.

The HYDRA agents end up being essentially useless. They only manage to injure one of the Avengers, Hawkeye, and it's a light glancing blow that barely even slows the man down. But then again, this mission is the Guardian's and the Asset's. The HYDRA agents were never expected to complete it, and it does give them both a chance to study the Avengers' fighting styles first hand. The only one absent is the Hulk, as they expected. He's sure to be nearby, though, on backup.

The Asset engages them first. Or, he engages Ironman specifically. It is a tricky fight. His bullets don't seem to damage the man's armor and while the Asset is faster and far more skilled, he learned early on that even his metal arm can't quite hold up to the man's energy blasts. For what he thinks is the first time (but honestly, he's not so sure) he is grateful for the Guardian's over-protectiveness because it has made him the bigger target. He's fighting both Thor (with his horrible electrified hammer that the Asset knows his arm would not hold up against like the Guardian's shield is) and the Black Widow, who would not give him the opportunity to get the upper hand.

Hawkeye has tried to help Ironman, but the arrows come from far off and are easy enough to dodge. And when he gets a solid grip on Ironman's arm, one misplaced shot in the right direction is enough to put the archer out of commission for at least a little while. That makes Ironman falter and his pause is all the Asset needs.

The metal hand crunches fairly easily through the outer layers of the metal and glass covering the glowing power source on the man's chest. Ironman tries to throw him off, but pain is an old friend and he has a mission. So he continues to dig into the man's chest, ignoring the sparks his arm is conducting straight into his nervous system and even the lucky arrow that knicks his calf. And nobody needs to know if the whole time he's internally thinking _"Really? A glowing target on your chest that powers your whole suit that's only protected by glass? You do not know the meaning of secure, do you? You're almost as bad as St…"_

For once, the thought almost seemed like it's going to complete itself, except the thing he's trying to pull out of Ironman's chest suddenly flares brightly enough to blind even the Asset. And then he feels some of the worst pain he's ever felt. It's as bad as The Chair, maybe worse, but in a totally different way. This is quick and sudden and he's pretty sure it's sent him into shock because he hits the ground in a daze and doesn't remember falling. He can't get up and he can't quite breathe.

He tries to stand, but his legs don't work and he can't feel his left arm. At all. He hears a distant howl from somewhere nearby and knows it's the Guardian. It's not a pained noise, but an enraged one and a moment later the metal disk flies over his head and slams into Ironman's suit hard enough it shuts off the glowing power source.

The Guardian vaults over him, rips the shield free roughly enough it sends Ironman tumbling to the side, and then the Guardian is pulling him. He's pretty sure he makes a noise of some kind, because it hurts so damn bad, but then he's sitting up against the wall. He can tell the Guardian wants to check him over, but they're still surrounded so he takes up a position between the Asset and the Avengers. His silver disk is held up to protect them both.

It takes the Asset a little, but he musters the strength to reach out with his hand and place it on the Guardian's back, an attempt to reassure him though the Asset could not say why that was necessary. It just was. Then something short circuits in the remnants of his arm (which he has realized by now is just gone) and the jolt is enough to short his brain. The blackness that follows feels oddly familiar.

* * *

The Guardian does not like this mission and he really doesn't like the Avengers. Trying to fight them has proven more difficult than he and the Asset expected and he has not been able to keep his required proximity to the Asset in over seven minutes. Objectively, not a long time, but internally it feels like an eternity. Thor brought down his hammer against his weapon again (which has already proven ineffective time and again so why does he keep trying the same move?) and the Guardian sees Black Widow sneaking up in time to kick her aside.

She's the easier one to deal with, for the most part. She's more skilled, trickier, and harder to get a hold of, but Thor takes the blows like an enhanced and just doesn't back off. He finally manages a solid blow to Thor's chest with his weapon, one that knocks him back several feet and gives the Guardian a chance to breathe. He risks a quick glance backwards, to see how the Asset is, only for a bright flash of light to flood the room from Ironman's suit.

He ducks under his weapon as the energy beam blasts a hole through the wall near him. It scatters Thor and the Black Widow too and he's about to press his advantage when he hears a sound that chills him to the bone. The Asset crying out in pain like he's never heard before. He's thrown his weapon towards Ironman before it even fully registers that he's moving and the weapon slams into the spot the light had come. The suit's power source, he knows from the briefing.

He sees the Asset lying still on the ground briefly as he leaps over him and rips the weapon free, using the momentum to throw the Ironman suit aside. The others are starting to recover. He kneels next to the Asset, whose metal arm is gone, and pulls him back against the wall. The pained cry that come from the movement physically hurts to hear, but with the wall behind their backs they're more protected. He takes up a defensive position with his weapon covering them both.

He doesn't know what to do. The Asset is hurt, very hurt, and needs immediate help. He is the Guardian and he's likely to be punished for this failure, but he's willing to take it if the Asset can survive. But the Avengers stand between them and extraction. It was tentative at best that they could take them all out to begin with. Alone, and trying to protect his injured treasure… Even with Ironman down (and he _is_ down; the suit hasn't moved since he threw it aside) he can't. He's good but even he isn't that good.

The rooms falls into a strange stagnation as both sides take each other in. "What do we do?" Thor asked, breaking the silence first. He's speaking softly, but clearly he doesn't know about the Guardian's enhanced hearing. Or maybe he thinks the Guardian doesn't know English.

The Black Widow has knelt by the Ironman suit and helped to get it off, leaving Stark in civilian clothes. The Guardian would throw a knife his way if he had one on hand, because Stark is a perfect target right now, but the Asset was always a better shot and the Black Widow is likely to block it. And he's still not entirely sure what to do. His missions and instructions and imperatives are battling in his head, because while his current mission is to kill the Avengers there's a desperate part coming up from the blackness that is practically screaming _"don't! They can help him!"_ And the Asset is meant to always be his priority.

Then a light hand comes to rest on his back.

The Asset, letting him know he's okay in the only way he probably can. "Let me try something." The Black Widow says before she holsters the gun and starts approaching them with her hands up. He tightens his grip on his weapon. She says something in Russian, but it's none of the words the Guardian knows. The Asset knows Russian, knows a lot of languages, but he can't reply or translate for the Guardian right now. She says something else, in what he's sure is meant to be a soothing tone, but he's read her file and knows better than to trust any front she puts on.

"I don't understand." He finally says and that startles them all.

"You speak English. Okay, good. That's good. Can you tell me your name?" The Black Widow asks as she continues to approach. She's on the outer barrier of acceptable and he doesn't want her any closer, so he growls. She stops and even takes a step back. "You're the Guardian, aren't you?" She continues.

He glances between them all, hesitant to answer because LEAVE NO WITNESSES is playing like a loop in the back of his head. And then he feels the Asset jerk and the hand falls limply from his back. He's turned around before he even considers that's a very dangerous idea and realizes immediately that's his treasure is unresponsive. He checks the Assets pulse, which is there but it's slowed and weak. He realizes for the first time that there's blood. From a cut on the back of the Asset's lower leg that doesn't look that serious, but horrifyingly there's blood dripping from in between the leftover wires and parts that are the remnants of his left arm.

The Black Widow steps into the circle again. He feels it and snaps his attention to her. But he doesn't warn her back. His brain has started doing something it's never done. It's shut off. He can't process, can't plan, can't think straight. All he can focus on is the Asset's weakening heartbeat in his ears and thinking how if that heartbeat stops, if his doesn't just stop with it, he's going to put a bullet in his brain because he can't exist without his match. They're a pair, always.

_"To the end of the line. So trust them. They can help you."_ That little whisper from the darkness repeats, louder than ever before. _"Trust them."_

And then he does something that completely, utterly, and entirely breaks every part of the training he's ever undergone. Every protocol and rule that's ever been written into or given to him. He's supposed to chose death over this, even. But… he doesn't want to die and he certainly doesn't want the Asset to die. So he begs. "Will you help him?"


	5. Chapter 5

What happened next was a bit of a blur, if the Guardian were honest. Not unlike when his memories were wiped but don't actually go away. Except this time he remembered every excruciating detail. The Avengers conversed for a _painfully_ long time about what to do and when he heard the Asset's breathing hitch he knew he has to do something.

He freed his weapon from his arm and shoved it across the floor towards them, followed by all their weapons except the Asset's favorite hidden knife which they wouldn't find. And he begs. He promises to listen and obey and cooperate. He'll give them information, let them use him for whatever they want, complete missions for them, anything. As long as they save the Asset. (A small part of him that feels distinctly separate from what's going on thinks that Stark's look of abject horror at his plea is kind of hilarious, if a bit macabre.)

They still seemed hesitant, until Bruce Banner walked in with a medical kit and pushed past them without a word. He ignored the hands that tried to grab him. The Guardian tensed as he got close, but then Banner did something unexpected. He stoped and knelt down, opened his kit and showed the Guardian what was inside. "See? Nothing to hurt him. I just want to help." He promised.

The Guardian disagreed, because he knows first hand from both perspectives what some of those tools can do to a person and how much they can hurt (which, why does he know that? Where did he learn that?). But he also knows that Banner is serious. He doesn't intend any harm. Slowly he moved to the other side of the Asset's lax body so the doctor can get to his damaged arm. He may not have his weapon, but the Guardian is more than willing to take a bullet for the Asset and will not leave him unprotected.

Banner went to work as some of the other Avengers objected or warned him, but he ignored them all. And he had reason to. The Guardian knows that Banner is by far the most powerful of them and even if he were to try and fight, the Hulk would end both him and the Asset easily. Except, he realized, he doesn't want to. Because Banner is taking his role seriously and looks mortified by what he's seeing.

He pushed the Asset's sleeve up to reveal his shoulder and his face went pale. "Is this… linked directly into his body? His nervous system?" He asked and the Guardian nodded. He has intimate knowledge, permanent knowledge, of how both the Asset and the arm work. In case he ever has to perform medical treatment while in the field. Banner swore, and then swore several times more as he began to look more desperate. He whirled around to the others. "He needs proper care. Now. Before the shock sets in any further." It is not a request and the Guardian finds he has some respect for Banner to stand up to his teammates like that.

"Bruce…" Tony warned and fell immediately silent at the sharp look Banner gave him.

"Now, Tony." He growled and his voice sounded different. Deeper. The green that has appeared from the veins in his neck lead the Guardian to think that Banner is nearing a turn into the Hulk. Except, it's in defensive of him and the Asset. That's confusing to him. But as the other Avengers seem to concede to Banner's desire, he no longer cares. The Asset will be helped and that's all he needs.

Banner made sure the Avengers were moving before he turned back to the Guardian and the Asset. "We need to get him to the jet. It's not great, but it has enough medical equipment I can get him stabilized until we reach the Tower." Banner explained as he quickly packed up his kit.

The Guardian doesn't quite understand why Banner felt the need to explain. All he had to say was "let's move" and he would follow, but maybe he doesn't understand the command aspect of working with the Asset and the Guardian. That's okay. He knows orders when he hears them. He scooped up the Asset as carefully as he can. His heart dropped when his treasure didn't even flinch or groan. His heartbeat is erratic and weak and he's much paler than before.

Banner seemed taken aback for a moment at the movement but quickly stood and the Guardian followed him diligently at five paces back, like he's required. Carrying the Asset up four flights is easy for him but he's still grateful the jet is nearby once they step into the sunlight. It's closer than he expected. Banner must have brought it in once the upper defenses were taken out. The other Avengers have been watching him closely, but make no move to attack them.

Hawkeye took the pilot seat as Banner had him bring the Asset over to an exam table. "Tony, I need your help." Banner insisted. Stark came over cautiously as Banner (with the Guardian's help) removed the Asset's tactical vest and the other layers of shirts. Then Stark noticed the arm and practically dove in to help. The Guardian backed off a few paces, despite the instinctual desire to remain closer. He was still more than close enough to protect the Asset if needed and he had promised to cooperate. That means staying out of the way sometimes.

He diligently answers any questions Banner or Stark ask him. More than once they jerk to look in his direction like they're shocked by his answer, but since it never lasts more than a few seconds he doesn't remind them to go back to their work when they do. Even if he wants to. By the time they're ten minutes away from the base the Asset's heartbeat has stabilized. It's still low and he's still pale and it's obvious that he is not okay. But he's out of immediate danger and for the first time since he heard the Asset's pained cry, the Guardian feels like he can breathe.

Banner spends another five minutes looking over the Asset and making sure that the blanket covering him is secure, as are the straps holding the Asset down to the table. Even though he knows it's standard procedure for traveling while unconscious (with the exception of cryo) and that it would keep the Asset from getting hurt if the plane has to make emergency maneuvers, the Guardian hates it.

Finally Banner takes a breath and then looks at him. "Alright, come here. Let me look you over too." He insisted.

The Guardian feels an instinctive flash of fear at the command (coming from somewhere in the black of his brain) but he obeys. He is told to remove his suit so he does and then he takes the gestured seat. He can't help feeling a bit exposed without any armor and only his underwear on (_'__thank god he didn't have to take those __off'. _One of the new parts in his brain gives him that thought alongside a rush of relief that's unfamiliar). But he did promise to cooperate and he doesn't think they're going to just shoot him now.

Banner takes his heart rate, checks his pupils, listens to his heart, takes his temperature; all things he is used to happening during recovery from cryo. But then the doctor does something a little different. He tests his reflexes with a little rubber hammer. The Guardian thinks it's just a little silly. He knows his body overall is functioning at about 92% (possibly lower with his brain still malfunctioning, but he's more than capable of giving an accurate report if asked), with his reflexes only slowed by less than a millisecond.

And then Banner sees the scars on his leg and freezes in place. He reaches out slowly and touches them, reading them, the Guardian assumes. Banner's mouth opens and closes a few times before he says "What…?" It's a question, for him, but the Guardian has no idea what Banner is asking and doesn't want to answer the wrong question. And if he's honest, he's terrified to answer because no one is supposed to see them, except for the Asset. Because he'll be punished for them. "What is this?" Banner asks.

"Scars." He answers diligently, despite his misgivings, and Banner nods. He doesn't seem angry, just shocked. Maybe the Avengers don't care if he carves the letters into his skin? Or was it what they said that made them bad? He doesn't remember, but that feels more right.

"Yes, I see that. Why? And why do they say that?" Banner asks.

The Guardian tilts his head and looks at them again. It has been a while since he saw them as words and not just letters or knife strokes. But he still doesn't read it. "They're important. I can't let them fade." He says.

"Why?" Banner asks.

The Guardian considers it for a moment, how to explain it. "I don't remember. A self appointed protocol that has resisted the wipes insists I maintain them." He explains, because that's honestly the clearest way he can.

Banner just blinks at him for long enough the Guardian thinks he's said something wrong. "Self appointed?" Banner repeats and he nods. "You…" Banner starts only to cut himself off. "Okay. Did HYDRA know?" He asks.

The Guardian shakes his head. "Associated protocol mandates it's only acceptable to maintain them out of HYDRA bases and without HYDRA agents around. Exception; the Winter Soldier, my…" He falters in his report but Banner doesn't hit him or threaten. Just studies his face as he waits for the Guardian to finish. "Treasure." He finally whispers.

Banner nods slowly and takes a deep breath. "Okay. Okay." He takes a step back and the Guardian can see a little bit of green around his neck. Has he upset the man? No, he can't have! The Asset might not get medical care!

When Banner starts to move away, back towards the Asset and the main cabin he jumps up and drops to his knees. "Wait, please. Don't hurt him. If I've upset you punish me, but please don't hurt him or withhold his care." He pleads, his head bowed.

Banner goes stiff as a board for several excruciating seconds. And then he's in a flurry. "Oh god, no, no. You haven't upset me and I promise he'll get care. Oh god, please get up." He insists in a rush. The Guardian stands as ordered, but keeps his head bowed and waits for the blow he knows is coming. Except… it doesn't. Instead he feels a pair of hands nudging him back towards the stool and he trips into the seat like he's lost control of his legs.

Banner is still standing there in front of him, with his hands held up in the same peacekeeping gesture Black Widow used earlier. "Okay. You, just, stay right there for a moment, okay?" He instructs. The Guardian nods and Banner waits for a moment like he thinks the Guardian is going to disobey the order before he rushes off towards the other Avengers.

The Guardian is in an awkward position to keep an eye on the Asset, and has very much broken his proximity protocols. Slowly he gets up and moves into a seat closer to his treasure. The Black Widow and Stark both glance in his direction, but they don't tell him to go back. He's grateful. He's close enough to hear the Asset's heartbeat, steady and growing stronger, and it would take him less than a second to be at the Asset's side with clear sight-lines all around. It settles the mission protocols that had been practically clawing at his brain.

And then he realizes what Banner is saying to the Avengers. "Look, I'm not crazy. Carved into his leg are scars, carefully maintained and that he's forbidden himself from showing HYDRA. And it says 'I am Steve Rogers, Capt. America. My heart is Sgt. James Barnes, the Winter Soldier.' And think about it. He was using a circular shield made of vibranium, just like Captain America and where else would HYDRA have gotten it? They must have found it with him in the arctic, who knows how many years ago, after he somehow he survived the plane crash."

Steve Rogers. The name echoes in his head painfully, and pushes against the electricity holding the blackness. Captain America echoes too. And so does the name James Barnes. The Guardian presses a hand to his head as he looks at the scars on his leg and really reads them for the first time he can remember doing so. It reads exactly as Banner said it did and the pain in his head increases, like an electric fence jumping to life as he pushes against it.

"Why don't we just ask him?" Filters in. It's Stark's voice. Someone approached him and he forced himself to look up despite his throbbing head. He's not surprised to see it's Stark. "Yo, are you really Captain America?"

"I don't… I don't…" He tries to answer. His protocols demand it. But his head is throbbing and he feels something wet sliding down from his nose. He's conscious long enough to examine the wetness on his fingers and realize it's blood before his brain simply shuts down.


	6. Chapter 6

He wakes up warm and comfortable. Two sensations that he hasn't ever experienced in his memory (which is actively only about five days long, but he knows it's been longer since he felt this). It creates echoes in his mind. They come from deep within the darkness and even the electric barrier isn't aching like usual. He feels safe and he doesn't want to move. But then the protocols kick in and he realizes he not only has no idea where he is, but he has no idea where or how the Asset is.

His eyes are open and he's sitting up in the bed in an instant. The details of his surroundings come quickly: warm tan walls, simple decorations, high end medical equipment, a slightly cool but comfortable temperature with air coming from small vents, and there's no personnel. He's not tied down, which comes as a surprise, but it's not nearly as much of a shock as the fact that his weapon is resting nearby. But the Asset is nowhere to be seen.

He swings his legs to the side of the bed as he pulls out the IV in his arm. Someone had changed his clothes: he is now dressed in a soft, cloth hospital gown that is far from cheap. By the time he is standing there are footsteps heading his way from down the hall. He picks up his weapon and checks it over. The tracker attached to the strap is gone but otherwise it is in perfect condition. The door opens behind him.

He keeps his arm from the strap and lets it hang loose at his side. He's sworn to cooperate and he doesn't want to be seen as a threat. The arrivals are Banner and a doctor the Guardian doesn't recognize. Banner's look of relief confuses him. "Hey. You're up. How are you feeling?" He asks as he steps into the room and approaches him cautiously.

The Guardian falters for a moment then holds out the weapon for the man to take. "I am fully functional. Where is the Asset?" He requests.

Banner doesn't take his weapon. "I'm glad you're okay. If you really feel well enough I can take you to him." Banner says instead.

"Yes." He agrees immediately. "Please." He added as an afterthought. Banner smiles and nods towards the door.

"Follow me." Banner orders, though it's gentle compared to the usual orders he's given. Banner starts walking and the Guardian follows him without hesitation. The doctor who had entered with Banner eyes him warily, but the man is unenhanced. Not remotely a threat, especially since the Guardian has his weapon in hand, and so he barely warrants consideration.

They walk a bit down the hall when the Guardian finally speaks up to ask the question that had been on his mind. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Nine hours." Banner answers. That was surprising. With the exception of the time spent in cryo, both the Guardian and the Asset never slept longer than four hours at any time, even on a secure base. "And there's quite a bit I need to catch you up on." Banner adds.

"A brief?" He questions.

Banner pauses at that and glances back at him. "A brief?" He asked curiously and the Guardian is reminded that the Avengers are unaware of his protocols.

"A mission brief." He clarifies.

"No, no. Not a mission. Just, what happened while you were unconscious." Banner says and the Guardian nods. No mission yet from the Avengers is preferable. Banner pauses for a moment, like he expects the Guardian to say something, before he starts speaking. "Okay, first thing's first. This is your friend's room." He gestures to the door nearest to them.

The Guardian pushes past him and enters it before the man has even finished speaking. It was nearly identical to his hospital room, though with warm gray walls instead of tan. The Asset is lying on a bed, hooked up to more machines than he had been. There were multiple bags attached to his IV line and a steadily beeping heart rate monitor nearby. He does his own check anyway. A decreased but steady heart rate, slightly too pale coloring but better, slightly too cool skin temperature, and no indication of any pain.

"We're not totally sure what to do about him, honestly. Anyone else would be dead." Banner explains as he moves closer to the bed. The Guardian only realizes he still has his weapon when he tightens his grip on it instinctively. But he doesn't raise it up. He waits for Banner to elaborate and after a few moments pause the doctor does.

"Losing his arm sent him into deep shock, which was compounded by the electrical shorts that occured in his arm. It's connected so thoroughly to his nervous system that it created a feedback system that keeps sending him into shock. Removing the arm would solve the problem, but we don't know if that's physically possible without killing or at least paralysing him because of the connections in his spine. And we don't know how to shut the arm off either, or if that's even possible. We had to put him into an induced coma otherwise the shock would kill him before long." Banner explains.

"What do you need to help him?" The Guardian asks, and he knew his tone had darkened. Waking up without the Asset at his side had almost physically hurt with how wrong it felt. He would do anything to help Banner assist the Asset, but unless it was an absolute emergency he was not moving from this room. He was the Asset's Guardian, after all.

"Right now, we don't know. And there's more." Banner says and the Guardian finally looks away from the Asset to meet the doctor's eyes. "Those scars on your leg." He begins and the Guardian nods. He remembered; with the exception of the wipes he always remembered. "We looked into it. Facial recognition, teeth imprints, and even managed a DNA comparison from the blood they had drawn from Captain America back in the forties. And either you are an incredibly accurate clone, which Tony and I don't think is the case because your cells are old enough to be from 1918, or you are the real Steve Rogers."

Just like reading the words on his thigh had, the name hurts his head. It makes the electricity, and everything behind it, jump like they had a life of their own. "I don't remember." He finally admits, because it seems like Banner is waiting for an answer.

To his surprise Banner nods. "Yeah, we know. We did a brain scan while you were unconscious and found serious brain damage in your hippocampus. On both of you. It's actually healing all on it's own, but there's no guarantee that the memories will come back once it does. But that doesn't change the fact that you are Steve Rogers. And you have both the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. willing to help you and Sergeant Barnes heal and recover." Banner informs him.

He can't hold back a groan as the term 'Sergeant Barnes' makes his headache increase until his head is throbbing. He didn't realize his hands were shaking slightly until Banner touches one. "Deep breathes. Do you need painkillers?" The doctor asks gently.

"Standard painkillers are ineffective." He answers through grit teeth because his protocols demand it, but he's distracted by a memory that has forcefully pushed its way into the forefront of his mind and quickly overtakes everything.

He is in an alleyway looking up at the Asset, who has short hair tucked under a hat and is dressed in an unrecognized (yet intimately familiar) brown military uniform. Both hands are flesh and blood and the Asset looks younger, less serious. The younger Asset says something to him that is mostly too muffled to understand but which includes the word sergeant clearly before the Asset salutes with a cocky smirk that the Guardian has never seen on the Asset's face, but that looks perfectly at home there.

The Guardian comes to on his knees, leaning on the Asset's bed to keep himself from crumpling completely to the floor. Banner is at his side, very concerned and with a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. "Captain Rogers? Are you alright?" He asks gently, but the Guardian can hear the way his volume is a little raised like he's tempted to call for help.

His protocol insists on an answer so he forces out "I am functional."

"That's good, but not what I asked. What happened? Are you in pain?" Banner insists. He falters, but the simple fact Banner is asking if he is in pain reminds the Guardian that he is not with HYDRA. He was not put in The Chair for the scars and maybe he won't be for remembering either.

"I… A memory, I think." He says hesitantly and the words feel unfamiliar. Banner blinks.

"That's great. Are you willing to share what it was?" Banner asks gently, a soft smile on his face. The Guardian falters again, but this time it's because he doesn't want to share. The memory is _his_ and it feels like a precious, intimate gift. Banner seems to notice his hesitance because he holds up his hands. "It's okay. You definitely don't have to." He promises quickly.

If it were anyone else he wouldn't, but Banner… He thinks he can trust Banner with this. A thank you for not punishing him and for taking care of the Asset. "I… I remember the Asset. But he was… different. Younger. Expressive. He used that word. Sergeant. Said it to me and saluted in an alley. He was taller than me." He offers.

Banner just gives him a small sympathetic smile and helps him to stand up. He feels unusually weak but doesn't fall. "That's excellent. It must have been around or in the forties. Just before the war, before you got the serum." He adds and the Guardian knows, he just knows, that it's right. That that's where he and the Asset are from. Their Before. And suddenly he has the overwhelming desire to know more about it, know more about this part of him that he thinks might be the voice from the blackness that told him to trust the Avengers.

HYDRA didn't like when he asked too many questions (or any, unless it was mission relevant) so he narrows it down to just one. "May I know more?" He asks softly. He's still not totally sure that he won't be punished for asking, but he wants to at least try. Has to.

Banner smiles at his request. "Of course. I'll have JARVIS put together all the videos and media we've got access to that could help you. And I'll ask Tony if he's got anything physical his father stored away that you can look at."

"Thank you." The Guardian whispers. The words feel unfamiliar, but comfortable. He must have said it before quite often at some point. Probably in his Before.

"If you want to wait here I'll go get it." Banner offers and he nods. Banner's smile grows into something wider and genuine. It makes the Guardian feel warmth in his chest. "Oh, if you need anything; food, water, painkillers, whatever, you can just say it. JARVIS is installed everywhere. He'll hear you and let the right people know to get it for you." Banner adds as he moves towards the door to the hospital room.

"JARVIS?" He repeats back, slightly confused.

"Hello, Captain Rogers. I am so glad to hear of your survival. I am JARVIS. It is a pleasure to meet you and it would be my honor to be of assistance you in anyway." The British voice was calming and steady, but came from the nearly invisible speakers in the ceiling (which he only noticed after being able to pinpoint their location by the sound).

The Guardian blinks a few times, but he's dealt with stranger occurrences in the past and decides it isn't worth asking for an explanation. Despite how curious he is. "Hello JARVIS." He answers, slightly hesitantly. Banner seems satisfied at that and leaves the room. The Guardian grabs a nearby chair and takes a seat near the bed. Near his treasure. He could stand, and HYDRA would demand it, but he still feels a little weakened and HYDRA isn't here. So if he wants to sit, he's going to sit. It's a simple little rebellion from his protocols that makes him feel comfortable in his own skin in a way he hasn't in what the blackness tells him is a very long time.

The room is basically silent for almost a minute. He can barely even hear the air conditioning blowing and there is the ever steady beeping of the heart rate monitor, but that's it. "Captain." JARVIS begins, interrupting the silence. He looks up at the ceiling and only realized after that he had responded to being called Captain like he'd been called that many times before. "If you would like, I have some recordings of music from the thirties and forties I can play for you and the sergeant." The Guardian hesitates, because music would make it harder to hear any approaching enemies. And yet he _wants_ to hear it. "If you are concerned about safety I can assure you this building is secure and everyone within it, especially those within the medical ward, are trustworthy and have been thoroughly investigated."

Slowly he nods. Apparently there are invisible cameras in the room too, because soft music starts playing after his nod. It is familiar, but it doesn't hurt the way other memories have. It's… comforting. Inexplicably he finds himself relaxing into the cushioned seat. Tension he has carried constantly for years eases as the music fills his ears. His internal clock stops working just like it does in cryo and an unknown amount of time later he falls asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

He dreams. He dreams of the Before Asset, sometimes in a military uniform, sometimes not. Sometimes looking down to meet his eyes and sometimes looking up (like their current heights). At various ages, like they knew each other as they got older. The dreams are hazy, with blurred edges and muffled, unclear voices. But every one feels warm. Safe and secure and comfortable. Intimate and familiar. And they aren't accompanied by the usual lightning.

He doesn't even remember the term 'dream' until the blackness supplies it for him shortly after he wakes up. Right after he recognizes the intruder to the room who had woken him from his sleep. He is glad he didn't throw his weapon since it's just Banner, but he was ready to. He lowers the weapon and then sets it down near his feet.

"Sorry. I should have had JARVIS let you know I was on my way so I didn't startle you." Banner says. He just shakes his head. Banner studies his face careful, the gentle smile giving way to concern. "Are you alright?" He asks.

"Yes." He promises. Banner seems to want him to elaborate so he adds "I… dreamed. About our Before." He glances at the Asset, only his glance turns into a stare as the black throws back up the dreams and he can't help comparing the Before Asset to the Now Asset.

"That's fantastic. We might need to do another brain scan soon to check on how you're healing since it seems to be quickly, but that can wait. First, here." He holds out an electronic device. It takes the Guardian a few moments to figure out how to activate it, but he does. "That's all the digital files we've got. There's not a ton of videos, and they're all from either the Spangle Circuit or your time with the Howling Commandos so it's after the serum, but that might be a good place to start. There are also documents, files, photos, scans of some of your old sketchbooks, and plenty of stuff that's not publicly accessible."

"Thank you." He said softly and Banner smiles.

"You're welcome. I hope they help. Also, when was the last time you ate?" Banner asks.

"I was given the standard supplement after cryosleep that contained the calories necessary to complete the mission." He answers.

Banner blinks and once again he has that slightly horrified expression. "Okay, there's a lot to dissect there. But I'm going to hold off asking about that for the moment. How long was the mission supposed to last?" He asks.

"An estimated two days. And we were given more of the supplement ten hours, twelve minutes before the Avenger's arrived at the base." The Guardian answers diligently.

"I assume that 'supplement' doesn't mean actually food." Banner says rather than asks but he nods a confirmation anyway. Banner sighs. "God, no wonder you're both so skinny. Okay, before you get too caught up looking over those files, you need to eat. Stay here and I'll bring some food to you. Do you have any preferences?" He asks. The Guardian shakes his head slowly and Banner nods. "Right. I'll be right back."

"I have alerted the kitchen and they should have a meal of suitable size and nutritional value ready shortly." JARVIS informs them both.

"Excellent. I'll just go get it." Banner informs him before leaving the room. The Guardian takes his seat again and looks back at the device in his hands.

There is nothing on it but what Banner said and while he trusts Banner's insight, it is the sketchbook scans that draw his attention rather than the videos. It opens to a page that explains what the file is and he glances through it. The name Howard Stark is written as the keeper and caretaker of Steve Rogers personal properties and related Captain America artifacts. It is another name that feels familiar, but there are no memories that come up.

So he moves on. He swipes across the screen to see a faded drawing on a yellowed page (and briefly wonders where he learned to use this device because he obviously knows how). He continues swiping through the pages. Some of the images are more familiar than others but it's not until he comes across an image of the Before Asset that he stops. In the drawing the Before Asset sits on a fire escape with a cigarette in his lips (which the blackness gives the name of alongside the scent of bitter smoke). He is calm though not happy, similar in age to the Before Asset in the sergeant-memory, and looks distantly into the sky as his thoughts seem far away. Handwritten underneath in almost caligrified script is the word 'Bucky', followed by a signature that he somehow knows says 'Steve R.' despite being unable to actually read it.

Much of the rest of the images are similar. Almost two thirds are sketches of the Before Asset. Sometimes they are posed and others were done candidly but always with the carefully written label of 'Bucky'. The other drawings include architecture and animals, people and nature. Random moments in time captured on the page, but none are labeled and none bear the same level of detail as the 'Bucky' images. The Guardian spends a long time looking at the sketches.

They feel warm and pleasant. They don't bring up proper memories, but he gets flashes of colors or sensations. Like the scent of cigarette smoke or of seawater or of hair gel (all three are associated most strongly or exclusively with the Before Asset). The sounds of people and cars moving on the street outside, accented voices calling out pleasantly to one another. The feeling of warm hugs and gentle kisses (also the Before Asset, though there's a blond woman he gets a brief flash of who is associated with the feelings too). He thinks the Before Guardian, Steve Rogers, must have lived a fairly pleasant life. It makes him wonder how he got here.

To his utter shock the blackness throws up another series of memories in response to the thought. Intense pain (but not quite as bad as The Chair) accompanied by a bright light and followed by a then-strange feeling of strength. Achingly familiar peppy music plays dizzyingly quickly as the brief flashes of standing on various stages and people moving in synchronicity near him blur together. It slows down abruptly as he gets hit with cold air and a heavy atmosphere, followed by an important looking man who barely meets his eyes as he delivers news that brings on a panic inducing sense of dread. He gets glimpses of a large cement building in a compound late at night and the feeling of fighting. There are prisoners he frees. And then he finds the Before Asset, very hurt but alive, and the sense of dread eases.

The images pick up again. He gets glimpses of missions and battles, always with the Before Asset at his side or with the knowledge he is hidden somewhere nearby with a sniper rifle. Looking after him, watching his back. Like he always has. There are others too, who fight alongside them. And then, vividly, he sees a mission. He sees the Before Asset clinging to a blown open train compartment wall, dangling over a cliff. He tries desperately to help, but can't quite reach and Bucky falls away with a scream.

For once he doesn't want to remember because it makes his chest ache almost worse than The Chair hurts his head, but the onslaught continues briefly. Another battle; this one important. A large plane and a fight with a man with a red skeletal face. Crashing into ice cold water that chilled him to his core, not unlike cryo. And a sense of relief.

He comes back to himself with a gasping sound. The tablet (another word he didn't know he knew but apparently does) had slipped from his fingers at some point. He is lying partially on the Asset's bed, but even that isn't enough to help his sense of balance. The world is swaying around him and he isn't sure if he's going to faint or not.

"Captain Rogers?" Banner's voice comes to him slowly and it's obvious the doctor is concerned. He is more concerned about the fact that Banner is right next to him and he didn't hear or sense the man's approach at all. "Captain?" Banner repeats again and sets a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The Guardian forces himself to look at Banner, who seems relieved to see him move. "Memories." He mutters and Banner gives him a small sympathetic smile.

"Here. Sit up and let's get some food in you. I think it will help." Banner says and he nods a little, grateful Banner didn't ask what he saw. Banner waits a moment before backing up and picking up a tray from a nearby table. The Guardian almost groans at the smell coming from it that makes his stomach hurt and growl at him (the black says this isn't the first time he's felt like this either, far from it). Banner sets the tray down on the arms of the chair after he has sat back.

"What is this?" He asks softly.

"Food, obviously, but I assume you mean specifically. Start with this. It's tomato soup and should be easy on your stomach. You might be okay with something heavier since you have the serum, but I'd rather you not throw up if we can avoid it. So we're starting with something light." Banner explains as he takes a seat nearby.

The Guardian pauses for a moment before he lifts the bowl to his mouth. At the first sip he almost drops the bowl. The food is warm but not hot. And the _flavor_. It brings his taste buds to life in a way that hasn't happened in a long time and brings up sensations from the blackness, of familiarity and comfort and a sense of home. He has to take a moment so he doesn't get overwhelmed by it.

"You okay?" Banner asks and he nods.

"Yes. Just… memories. I don't think I've tasted anything like this in a long time." He offers and Banner smiled.

"Well it's all yours so go on. Finish it and if it doesn't upset your stomach you can try the rest too." Banner insists. It's an order, which makes a small part of him want to say no, but he's eager to drink more of the tomato soup anyway so he lifts the bowl back to his lips. By the time the bowl is empty his stomach has stopped hurting and stopped growling. The hunger that had been a near constant companion for a very long time had eased. He wasn't full (he doesn't think he is anyway), but he isn't hungry and the sensation makes him feel both sleepy and physically stronger.

"It's good." He finally offers as he put the empty bowl down carefully and Banner actually laughs at the comment.

"I'm glad you like it. Here, try this next. It's steamed broccoli that I had them overdo so it was softer. It's healthy, but low on calories, so mostly it's to see how your stomach handles it before we try something heavier." Banner recommends. The Guardian eyes the little green bushes with curiosity but picks one up and eats it. Just as Banner promised it's soft (almost mush in his mouth), but unlike the soup he does have to chew it. It tastes very different and doesn't have the same feeling of comfort, but he thinks he likes it too. So he eats the rest.

Banner chuckles a little as he swallows the last piece and the Guardian glances at him. "Sorry. I'm not laughing at you, I promise. You just… you look happy. And I don't think I've ever seen someone eat that much broccoli that quickly."

The Guardian feels his lips twitch, pulling themselves into a smile. It's not the creepy smile he puts on to scare targets (when told to), but something softer. Warmer. It feels good to wear. To his surprise Banner blushes and he's tempted to force the smile away in case he's done something wrong. But then Banner smiles back. "Well, I see why America fell so quickly for you back during your show days." He says.

The Guardian's smile actually widens and he realizes he's feeling pleasure. He's _happy_. And even though the protocols say he shouldn't be… Even though they say he should shove those emotions down (and a small part reminds him that the punishment for not doing so would be The Chair)… he doesn't _want_ to. And even though it goes against the protocols pushing at his mind, the blackness is insistent. "I don't want to" is a valid reason _not_ to do something. And "I want to" is a valid reason _to_ do something. And what he wants to do at the moment is to try more of the foods Banner brought him.


	8. Chapter 8

The next three days pass by in pretty much the same way. He stays in the Asset's room and sleeps in the chair for a few hours every night (after JARVIS informed him that staying awake for several days is actually not good for him, even with the serum, when he tried to stay awake the first night). He does not sleep as much as the medical staff think he does, though, and so he spends several hours of the early morning before the staff are active exercising. It's tricky in the small space but he makes do because he won't leave the Asset (doesn't want to) and because he won't allow himself to become weak.

Once the ward starts to become active he checks over the Asset, as he continues to do every few hours (with only the most minute changes in his condition), and then settles into his seat. And, with the exception of meals, he spends the rest of his days looking over the files on the tablet. The first two days are the hardest because every memory the documents bring to the surface is accompanied by the lightning of The Chair. But it slowly gets easier. Less painful.

There are other daily differences. The inconsistent but frequent doctors coming and going; usually they are examining the Asset but several times they want to examine him. Only once does he leave the room, for a brain scan at Banner's request. He also sees most of the Avengers over the course of the three days. Banner is there multiple times a day. Stark came by once on the first day and spent several hours running scans of the Asset and has yet to return. The Black Widow never enters the room but the Guardian notices her watching through the window roughly every twelve hours. Only once is she accompanied by Hawkeye, who is limping. Thor is the only one who does not make an appearance and the Guardian is actually grateful. With the exception of the Hulk, Thor is the biggest threat to him and the Asset.

It is on the fourth day that things change. Banner brought him breakfast as usual, which he promptly devoured (he does not understand how he could go so long without food before, but he has managed to put on a little weight over just four days and feels so much stronger all the time with his consistent diet). But even as he eats he certainly notices how Banner's reactions to the Asset's condition are different than usual.

"Is something wrong?" He asks. He didn't notice anything unusual or concerning about the Asset when he did his own check earlier, but the expression Banner's face tells him something is wrong even before the doctor speaks.

"It's… well it's wrong, but it's not like an infection or cut or something we can cure. Sergeant Barnes' body is deteriorating and we can't wait any longer to do something. If he stays in this coma he might not be able to recover and certainly not easily. He's lost almost ten pounds since arriving here and he had no fat to begin with. If he weren't enhanced he wouldn't be alive right now." Banner explains.

The Guardian is at the Asset's side in an instant and gently runs his hands up and down the Asset's human arm, feeling the muscles. Banner is right. His muscles have begun to atrophy, which should not be possible with the serum except in extreme circumstances. "What can we do?" He asks and he doesn't hide the concern in his voice like he would have at first.

Banner touches his shoulder gently and gives it a squeeze as he sighs. "JARVIS, patch me through to Tony." Banner requests.

A moment later background music comes through the speakers alongside Tony's voice. "What's up, big green?"

"Have you made any progress in figure out how to fix Sergeant Barnes' arm?" Banner asks.

There is a heavy annoyed groan and it's obvious Tony does not know how serious things are. "No, but man I wish I had the full arm! This is a technical marvel years ahead-"

"Tony!" The Guardian has never heard Banner cut someone off like that before. "The sergeant is dying. We can't keep him in a coma much longer. If we can't help him, and we've established we can't, we need to call T'Challa. Now. They might have the technology to help him or at least keep him alive until we figure out how ourselves." Banner informs him.

There is a pause and a heavy sigh. "I hate to admit defeat, but you're right. You want to call the kitty and explain or should I?" Tony asks.

"I will. You start getting the jet prepped." Banner orders and then the call ends. "You doing okay, cap?" He asks and the Guardian nods.

"If the Asset is being moved, I will be accompanying him." He declared and Banner nodded.

"I knew you would. T'Challa might also be able to help you and the Sergeant with your brain damage and lost memories." He says with a tense smile before he sighs again. "JARVIS, call T'Challa, please."

"Of course, sir." JARVIS answers before the TV screen turns on to static. Banner faces it and after a few seconds the static switches to an image of a man at a desk. He is dressed in clothing unlike anything the Guardian has ever seen and the furniture and architecture around him is also unique. For the first time since coming here, for the first time in a very long time actually, the Guardian feels the desire to draw.

The man takes in the hospital room with a quick glance before his eyes settle on Banner. "Dr. Banner." He greets.

"Your highness." Banner replied warmly. "We need your help."

"I could assume as much since this call was marked as urgent. What can I help you with?" T'Challa remains serious, but pleasant and Banner seems unaffected.

"This is Captain Steve Rogers and in the bed is Sergeant James Barnes. I'll send you all the details to catch you up on who they are, but what you need to know now is that the sergeant is dying. A few days ago Tony blasted his metal arm off and it caused him to go into shock. We can't shut the rest of the arm off or get it free from his body so we've kept him in a coma. But his muscles are atrophying and we can't help him. Can you?" Banner explains.

T'Challa is looking at something just off camera (files about them sent by JARVIS, the Guardian can only assume) but he nods and looks back towards them. "We will do our best. I assume the Captain will be accompanying him?" T'Challa asks.

"If that's not a problem." Banner says politely and the Guardian was tempted to glare because that's not even an option, but T'Challa is nodding even before Banner finishes speaking.

"Of course he is welcome. Do you have an ETA?" He asks.

"Twelve hours, give or take. Thanks, T'Challa." Banner adds and T'Challa tips his head to acknowledge it. Then the call ends. Banner sighs heavily and runs his hands through his hair. "Alright. JARVIS, alert medical we need to prep the sergeant for transport."

"Right away." JARVIS answers before Banner looks at him.

"Do you need anything?" He asked. The Guardian glances down. His weapon (Steve Roger's old shield, he has come to realize) rests at his feet but he still wears a hospital gown, which is not the worst thing to fight in but he would prefer some pants and a shirt.

"Combat clothes." He answers.

Banner falters slightly. "I don't know about combat clothes, but unless Tony ordered some larger clothing you'll have to wear workout attire because I don't think anything else would fit." He says and the Guardian nods once. That would do.

"Dr. Banner, Miss Pots ordered some clothing for both Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes as soon as she became aware of them. Shall I have someone bring it down?" JARVIS informs them.

"Excellent. Yes, please. Thanks JARVIS." Banner replies. The room becomes busy then for twenty-two minutes as the doctors and nurses the Guardian had become familiar with over the last few days work on preparing the Asset. To his surprise, it is Black Widow that brings down the change of clothes for him and the small part of him that made him think he should change in the bathroom to avoid inconveniencing the doctors vanishes. Because he will not leave the Asset in the room with her while unable to defend himself.

A few of the nurses, especially the female ones, eye him as he changes but they are more focused on their tasks. The clothes are simple, soft and loose in plain light gray, and would offer no protection in a fight. But they are far better than the hospital gown. By the time he is dressed they have disconnected the Asset from everything they need to. He picks up the shield and tablet, and stays close as they push the Asset's bed through the halls.

It is the first true examination he gets of the medical ward and he has to admit that JARVIS was right when he said it was secure. Well lit hallways with presumably bulletproof windows (that show they are high in a skyscraper with no clear sight-lines to the inside) with more 'hidden' microphones he could see and cameras he couldn't but was sure were there. They reach an elevator and most of the medical staff falls away with quiet "get better", "we'll miss you", and "glad you're back, Cap" type comments. He doesn't know how to react or reply so he just remains silent and nods to each one.

Banner, two nurses, and another doctor join him and the Asset in the elevator. The Guardian decides on their ride up he does _not_ like elevators. Enclosed and metal, especially with the bed and several other people, it makes him feel… claustrophobic. Reminds him of the cryo tube. The ride is thankfully short. Stark is waiting for them when the elevator doors open. "Damn, murder bot doesn't look good." Is the first thing out of his mouth.

"Yes. Is the jet ready?" Banner asks as the nurses push the Asset's bed from the elevator. The Guardian follows a touch more quickly than called for because he is eager to get out of the elevator.

"Course." Stark joins them in moving and glances at the Guardian. "How you doing, capsicle?" He asks.

The Guardian pauses for a moment, blinking, before he decides he doesn't want to know what a 'capsicle' is. "I am fully functional." He says and is surprised when Tony snorts.

"Fully functional? That's hilarious. Maybe I should be calling you the bot rather than this one." He points at the Asset as he continues to laugh. The Guardian is not sure if he is being insulted or laughed at but he is very confused.

"Tony, come on. Leave him alone." Banner insists as the jet comes into sight. It is outside on a landing platform and visible through glass. The glass doors open automatically as they get close and he realizes the engines have been running but he couldn't hear it until then. It was impressive soundproofing, but a secondary concern to getting the Asset out of the open and onto the plane as quickly as possible.

Once again the Asset is set on the metal table and strapped down. It makes the Guardian less nervous to see this time, but he doesn't like it all the same. But he simply claims the seat nearest to the Asset with the best sight-lines. Stark exits the plane alongside the medical staff and then the plane takes off. Banner claims a seat also near the Asset, but across the walkway from the Guardian.

"You can get some rest if you want. It'll be a long flight." Banner says but he shakes his head.

"No rest is required for sixteen more hours." He answers and Banner raises an eyebrow.

"How much sleep do you need? Or at least get?" He asks.

The Guardian takes a moment to figure it out. "Only eight hours every three days is required for full functionality, but JARVIS informed me that is not… healthy. Current adjusted protocol is four hours out of every 24." That seems to surprise Banner, but the Guardian is starting to think most everything he says will surprise the doctor.

"You only sleep four hours every day?" Banner asks and he nods. "So what have you been doing during the night?"

"Physical maintenance program. It lasts approximately 3 hours." The Guardian answers.

"You exercise?" Banner says. The blackness supplies him with the definition of exercise, which is close enough, and so he nods a confirmation. "For three hours?" Banner continues and again the Guardian nods.

"It is necessary to maintain current physicality and mission readiness." The Guardian offers.

Banner is silent for a little while with his mouth partially open before he finally asks "Did you do that every day before now?"

"No. Mission readiness maintained by the missions themselves and cryostasis. But days of inactivity would decrease readiness, which is against protocols. But you are welcome to rest." The Guardian offers. Banner looks him over and just settles back into his seat.

"I may not be enhanced, but even I don't get tired that easily." Banner informs him, but it was light hearted and the Guardian knows it isn't an insult. So he offers a small smile in return, settles into his own seat, and pulls out the tablet. He has made good progress getting through the files, but he isn't done with them yet. And if he were honest, he has come to like the underlying warmth that the recalled memories almost always have.


	9. Chapter 9

Eleven hours and thirty-five minutes was a long time even for a super soldier to spend in transit and he was glad when they finally arrived at Wakanda. During transit Banner had told him about the country, and the king who had agreed to help them. But that hadn't prepared him for the way the world shifted when they passed through an invisible shield. It took his breath away, the almost magical appearance of the city.

"Impressive, right? Tony's been trying to get their shield blueprints for years to no avail. But the city is hidden and entirely protected. No outside contact or eyes are allowed and it's impossible to get through without permission. There are few places in the world safer, if any." Banner offered and the Guardian could only nod in response.

They landed six minutes later and the Guardian couldn't help gripping his shield as the door opened. T'Challa was there on the landing pad, along with a number of other individuals. Multiple women in red uniforms carrying spears and two other females (one a teenager and the other elderly). Only the eldest woman doesn't register as a threat to him or the Asset, but none of them had threatening postures and Banner had insisted that they could help the Asset. It would not do to attack them first.

"Welcome." T'Challa began but the young girl interrupted him as she moved towards the jet.

"I'm sorry, but the pleasantries can wait." She insisted. She gave the Guardian a once over before turning her attention to the Asset. She pulled up a holographic interface from her bracelet and ran something in her other hand over the Asset's body. She was nodding, biting her lip, but nodding. "Get that gurney up here, now." She ordered sharply.

T'Challa looked less than impressed, but allowed the young woman to direct a team of doctors who unstrapped and moved the Asset to a floating gourney. They must have been briefed about the Guardian's protocols on at least some level because they allowed him to remain close and to always keep an eye on the Asset, even as they pushed the floating bed inside the large building nearby.

He was absolutely fascinated by the architecture and clothing the people wore, but they could wait until the Asset was safe. Was healing. Even as they rushed through the building the young woman fell back to his side. "I'm Shuri, by the way. T'Challa's sister." She said and the Guardian nodded in acknowledgement once. "I read the files so I know what's going on. I just want to know what you'd like me to call you." Shuri instructed.

The Guardian hesitated. He didn't know what he wanted to be called, or what it was even acceptable to be called. "Some call me captain." He offered and Shuri gave him a look.

"Okay, but what about you? What do you call yourself?" Shuri asked.

"The Asset's Guardian." He offered softly and she smiled.

"Alright, Guardian. And he's the Asset?" She motioned to him. The Guardian nodded.

"Sometimes the Winter Soldier." He added, because his protocols demanded he be thorough. "Or Sergeant. Or James Barnes. Or Bucky."

Shuri laughed. "Sounds like I'm going to have to get his opinion on it once we get him up." She said and the Guardian nodded. She pat his arm, which startled him because no one had touched him at all (aside from the Asset, handlers, or occasionally doctors during an exam), let alone casually, in what he was sure was a very long time. She stepped in front and led him into the room that the Asset had been taken into only seconds before.

It was a lab, but unlike any lab the Guardian had ever seen. It didn't make him uncomfortable, didn't bring up echoes of negative experiences like the medical ward at the Tower or the doctors at HYDRA bases did. There were no white coats, no metal tables, no surgical instruments. It did make the Guardian wonder how they planned to help the Asset, but Banner insisted that they could and so the Guardian would trust them.

He settled into a place where he could watch the proceedings, and watch he did. The Asset did not stir, did not give any indication of being in pain, as the procedure began. The doctors, led by Shuri, worked efficiently. They removed most of the remnants of the Asset's arm, leaving only the plates on his shoulder and multitude of wires and a bit of metal that came out from the scar tissue of the amputation site, before Shuri paused. She looked concerned, studying the readings of the Asset on the holographic screens, then Shuri turned to him.

"You're the closest to a medical authority we're going to get so; we can remove the rest of his arm and all the internal plating and replace it with a lighter nonreactive metal which would also allow us to make a new arm for him. I'm fairly confident we can make it work, but there's a chance it won't and it would add time to his recovery. Or we can leave it how it is now, which will still cause him pain and there's the immediate risk of the shock returning, or of metal poisoning down the road. And I can't guarantee we could make a new arm for him." She informed him.

The Guardian was taken aback by the sudden question. He'd never been asked about things regarding the Asset before, never even about things regarding himself, and it seemed like a big decision. But the Asset needed both arms for missions, and over the long term the replacement would be better. "How long to replace it?" He asked.

"By the time we get the rest of the metal from his body the replacements will be ready. It'll take a few hours to complete and make sure it's integrated. And then up to a couple of weeks of recovery to rehabilitate him, which he'll need to recover from the coma as well. It might be longer depending on the brain damage he has and how quickly he adjusts." Shuri informed him and he nodded.

"Replace it." He decided and she offered him a quick smile before she and her team went back to work. He couldn't help feeling confident. It felt good to make a decision for himself like that. To make a choice of his own. That sense of contentment, of self confidence, stayed with him as they continued to work on the Asset. The work was minimal at first, just them studying the holographic scan of the Asset's body and planning, making notes of the required changes or areas of concern.

Then the metal parts arrived and the work became bloody. It surprised the Guardian that seeing the Asset's blood, seeing the doctors cut him open, didn't send his protective instincts reeling like he expected. He struggled watching HYDRA doctors tend to the Asset's basic wounds, let alone when they performed surgery, but some instinct told him he could trust Shuri. But that didn't mean he was going to leave.

So he waited, for four hours and fifty-five minutes, as they worked. They spent most of it battling the Asset's serum, which would attempt to heal the incisions they needed to get to the metal parts almost as soon as they were made, but eventually it was done. And even the super soldier felt worn out. But the Asset's new arm was impressive. Black and gold, sleeker than his old one with what looked to be more dexterous fingers, and the Guardian found he was excited to see what it could do.

Shuri looked exhausted as she stepped back from the Asset's table, but she gave him a smile. "It all looks good. He should wake up some time tomorrow morning and if it's all the same to you, I think we'll wait until then to run the tests on you as well." She informed him and the Guardian nodded.

"I wish to remain with the Asset." He said and she nodded.

"I know. Don't worry. We've already set up a double room for you. If you want to head there with your Asset now we can all get some rest before tomorrow." She nodded at the door, waiting next to which were the nurses who had moved the Asset to that floating gurney again. He picked up his shield and followed them through the halls. He made note of the windows and doors they passed, which ones were exits and which weren't. But he didn't think they would be needed, at least not soon. He hoped not.

The room they were taken to was close by and comfortable. It was done in the same architectural style as everything else. There were two beds, with machines attached to each to monitor the bed's occupant. The Asset was placed in the one further from the door when the Guardian blocked the one closer. The nurses didn't seem to mind his silent insistence, just carefully moved the Asset over and then nodded at him politely as they left.

And finally he was left alone, well, as alone as he wanted to be. So he spent a few minutes examining the Asset. He was a little pale, but his breathing was good and his heartbeat was steady and already stronger. He examined the Asset's new arm. It was lighter, smoother, and not as cold as his old one tended to be. The fingers were thinner, but looked far from fragile. The area where the metal met his skin was bandaged, but the Guardian had seen it when they were putting the arm on. The scar tissue from his original arm was still there, and it was still connected to plates that covered his shoulder. But this time it was a much neater scar, much thinner.

They had left the IV in his human arm, but removed the medicine that was meant to keep the Asset in a coma. Shuri believed he would not wake up until the next morning. The Guardian disagreed. Already he could see signs the Asset's serum was burning through the medication remaining in his body by the slight increase in his heart rate. It would only be a matter of hours, at most, before the Asset woke. So the Guardian settled nearby, content to wait and watch until the Asset returned to consciousness.


	10. Chapter 10

Just as he expected, only two hours and four minutes later the Asset began to stir. Others would not notice any difference, as the Asset had been trained to study his surroundings before moving when waking up somewhere unknown. Just as the Guardian has been. But the Guardian had spent long enough with the Asset to know the subtle tells others would miss. The slightest hitch of otherwise consistent breaths, the flickering movement of eyes behind his eyelids, the slightest twist of his head as he listened.

"I am here. You are safe." He offered softly and the Asset's eyes opened. They scanned the room quickly before landing on him.

"опекун." He was speaking Russian, but it was one of the words the Guardian knew. His Russian name. The Guardian offered a flicker of a smile. "где?"

"Wakanda." He answered and for a brief moment, the Asset's expression furrowed in confusion. "You were seriously hurt, unresponsive. Extraction was not possible. The Avengers tried to care for your injury but it was beyond them and we were sent here for care." He explained.

He could tell by the slight pause that the Asset had a lot of questions he wanted to ask about the situation. But he wouldn't, because HYDRA disliked him questioning anything even more than they did the Guardian. "How long?" The Asset finally asked.

"You became unresponsive approximately 116 hours ago. Your arm was lost and it sent you into shock. You were kept in a medically induced coma until now to keep the shock from killing you." The Guardian answered.

"No cryosleep?" The Asset asked and the Guardian shook his head. The Asset looked around the room again and frowned slightly. "No guards?" His voice sounded rawer than usual. The Guardian picked up a glass of water and offered it.

As the Asset drank he spoke. "It is… complicated. But we are not prisoners." He assured and the Asset frowned again. Obviously his brain had done some healing too while in the coma as his expressions were not as guarded as they were immediately after a wipe. "My scars…" The Guardian began and the Asset frowned, his eyes distant for a moment before he glanced at the Guardian's thigh. "Yes. Banner saw them." The Asset flinched.

"You were punished?" The Asset asked, and there was the hint of concern that the Asset would only ever show in front of and for him. Knowing more about their past it made him feel warm because the Asset had always been concerned for him, but the Guardian quickly shook his head.

"They have not punished me. I don't believe they will. They are not like our usual handlers." He meant to continue the story from there but paused at the sharp look from the Asset.

"What did you promise them?" The Asset almost growled. That growl and tone echoed through Guardian's memories. It was one the Asset had used on him in the past, as the Before Asset. As Bucky. And the Guardian knew what it meant; the Asset was worried about him, worried for him. Afraid he'd done something the Asset considered 'stupid' (there were an alarming number of those types of memories pushing at him, examples of previous occurrences).

"Initially, my skills and cooperation, in exchange for your care. But things have since changed." He insisted and the Asset seemed hesitant, but waited for him to continue. "The scars form letters, words. My identity before HYDRA, and yours." He paused at the Asset's expression. It was one of fear, not unlike how the Asset reacted to The Chair. The Guardian hated it (had always hated it) so he gently reached out and touched his shoulder. A small reassurance, he hoped.

"Before HYDRA?" The Asset repeated softly and he nodded.

"The Avengers know who we were. They ran tests and confirmed it. They gave me files, documents, even videos." The Guardian said and the Asset was obviously fighting protocols and emotions, his own fear, maybe even memories that were trying to surface, but the Guardian kept speaking. "I remember things. The files brought back memories." The Asset looked genuinely frightened now, and scanned the room for eavesdroppers or cameras. Anything that could catch his words and report them to HYDRA. But the Guardian shook his head, already aware of what the Asset feared. "It is alright. There is no Chair. They will not punish us for remembering."

"No punishments?" He repeated and the Guardian nodded.

"And they even give me real food." He added almost playfully and for a brief moment there was a flicker of a smile on the Asset's mouth. Then it disappeared. He looked unsure and the Guardian couldn't help touching his cheek. For a brief moment he got a flash of doing the same movement, but in the memory the Asset was on the other side of metal bars and his cheek was bloody. The Guardian knew that he was the reason, though he couldn't remember how that had come about.

He returned to himself quickly; the memory had only taken moments. But of course the Asset had noticed his pause. "Just a memory." He assured.

"Tell me?" The Asset asked softly and the Guardian smiled.

"It was of you. I touched you just like this, but there was blood on your cheek. I had hurt you, but I don't remember why. We were separated by bars." The Guardian told him. The Asset shook his head. "It's okay if you don't remember. Banner told me that we both have brain damage and the memories might not come back."

Again the Asset shook his head. "I remember... some things. Echoes, sensations." He offered and the Guardian nodded.

"That was how it started for me. The files helped to bring back more." He picked up the tablet from where it was resting on the other bed and opened up one of the drawings of the Before Asset. The one of him on the fire escape. It had become the Guardian's favorite. He showed it to the Asset, whose expression furrowed. The Asset reached for it with only his left arm (the right barely twitched), only to jerk when he caught sight of it.

"What…?" He mumbled. The Guardian set down the tablet and took the Asset's metal hand into his gently. The fingers didn't twitch like real ones would (though the Asset was well trained enough the Guardian doubted even his human hand would twitch), but the plates and fingers shifted as he touched them.

"Your arm was mostly gone. The Wakandan doctor who tended to you felt it best to replace it as well as the support pieces under your skin." The Guardian told him. The Asset tilted his head and took his hand away before he folded each of his fingers in the metal hand, testing them no doubt. They moved smoothly. There was no visible glitching or delay. He could form a tight fist.

Finally the Guardian spoke again."Does it hurt?"

The Asset shook his head. "No. It is… I remember this feeling. Echoes. From when I received the first one and had yet to adjust to it. Synchronize with it." That was more words than the Guardian had heard from the Asset without a pause possibly ever. But the words still brought a smile to the Guardian's face because the Asset remembered things too.

The Asset suddenly looked away, towards his human arm with a frown on his face. "Is everything alright?" The Guardian asked and the Asset nodded stiffly. His expression was tired and he closed his eyes for a moment.

"I can't move my other arm." He muttered and the Guardian touched his shoulder, drawing his attention back.

"Banner said your muscles had begun to atrophy. It will take time to recover from." The Guardian warned and the Asset nodded slowly. He looked exhausted and the Guardian was sure he was disturbed by the weakness. "Rest. I won't leave you." He promised and the Asset actually gave a flicker of a smile.

"I know." He promised before he closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep. The Guardian had the strange desire to fix the blanket so he did. He did another check of the room, made sure it was secure. Then he settled into the other bed. He didn't have to sleep yet (he'd gone for longer) and wasn't sure he wanted to in a new place with unknown security, but JARVIS had instructed him not to go several days without sleep. So he would try to rest. It was a comfort to know the Asset was awake and healing nearby. It was to those thoughts, and the echoes they brought up, he fell asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

The Guardian could only stay asleep for one hour increments and only managed two before he had to get up from bed, his muscles twitching with excess energy and his brain mission-ready. The Asset was still asleep, not unexpectedly, and stayed that way as the Guardian went through his exercise regiment, plus an extra hour of calisthenics and an additional hour of stretching. Ten minutes after he finished, shortly after 06:15 local time according to the clocks, there was a soft knock on the door. He shifted towards his shield and said nothing.

As he expected the door was opened just a little and Banner peeked his head in. He smiled when he saw the Guardian up. "May I come in?" He asked softly and the Guardian nodded as he let himself relax. Banner entered the room and the Guardian's mouth watered at the scent of the food he brought with him. "Since you mentioned you didn't sleep much I was hoping you'd be up. I brought food. How are you feeling?" Banner offered him the tray.

"I am fully functional." He promised, slightly teasing because he knew Banner didn't particularly like that answer, but Banner seemed to get it was a joke and smiled back. It was great to know he could joke if he wanted to. But mostly he wanted the food. He had skipped his evening meal by accident and already he was feeling the effects. Again, how he had ever gone so long without food before was a complete mystery to him.

Banner let him take the tray and he promptly dug in. He never used silverware, preferring instead to use his fingers whenever possible because it was faster. Where he had gotten into the habit of shoveling food into his mouth as quickly as possible while holding it protectively close to his body the Guardian had yet to remember. He had a feeling it was HYDRA, because he could think of no other plausible place, but he couldn't be sure.

Aside from once during his second meal brought by the doctor where Banner had mentioned silverware it had not been brought up to him as his instinctive response then had been a growl (he did feel a tiny bit bad about it now). But the food was just as good as it always was, although it was different. It was probably local food, he decided. As he ate Banner started examining the Asset and even unwrapped his left shoulder. The connection point between skin and metal had healed, leaving only a thin pink scar over the older, larger, more ragged one.

The Guardian saw the Asset's movement long before Banner did and caught the metal hand before it could wrap around Banner's throat. The Asset seemed startled by the catch (and no doubt by Banner's appearance), but the Guardian didn't let go, though his grip was only strong enough to hold the limb in place. Thankfully the Asset wasn't fighting him because in terms of one-armed strength, the Asset's metal arm had always been stronger and that was no doubt still the case with his new one. "Easy. Banner is an ally." He insisted gently.

The Asset hesitated, his eyes flicking between the Guardian and Banner rapidly. Finally he relented. The fight left his arm and his shoulders relaxed against the pillows. The Guardian let the metal arm come to rest on the mattress as Banner let out a soft nearly invisible breath of relief as well.

"I apologize for startling you, Sergeant Barnes. That was not my intention." Banner offered and the Asset jerked at the name. He looked at the Guardian, his expression it's typical neutral aside from the fear in his eyes, and he said nothing.

"It is alright. That was your Before name." The Guardian offered and curiosity filled the Asset's eyes. "Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky." He added and 'Bucky' got a reaction. It made the Asset blink and his stoic expression faltered. He even shook his head like he was trying to clear a thought from his head. Or maybe he was just trying to clear the lightning that lingered from The Chair.

"Do you recall the name?" Banner asked gently and the Asset faltered again. The Guardian understood why. With HYDRA 'yes' meant The Chair and 'no' was a lie and therefore deserving of punishment. Probably followed by The Chair. Banner set a hand on the Asset's right shoulder gently. "It's alright either way. I was just curious where we are starting from in healing your brain damage and recovering your memories."

The Asset studied Banner for a moment before the stoic expression gave way to one that was child-like and terrified. The Guardian remembered abruptly that he and the Asset were young. Not even 25 when they became the Guardian and the Asset, and not much older now.

"I don't... remember, but there are echoes." He finally offered softly and Banner smiled.

"That's how the captain started off too." Banner assured.

"Captain?" The Asset repeated and Banner nodded.

"Just as you have a real name, so does he. His name is Steven Grant Rogers, better known as Captain America." Banner said. The Asset studied his face for a moment before he looked at the Guardian, who nodded to confirm it. The Asset looked back at Banner and Banner didn't even need him to ask for clarification to understand what the Asset wanted to know. "We're more sure of what happened to Captain Rogers, but there is still some conjuncture on our part. He crashed a plane into the arctic during World War II in an effort to stop Red Skull, the founder of HYDRA. We believe that HYDRA found him in the ice some time later and thawed him. They brainwashed him and somehow took his memories, as they had you. They turned him, turned you both, into their agents. We don't know for how long they had you, probably since your supposed death, but it's likely been decades for you both."

The Asset frowned and looked away at nothing. The Guardian knew it meant something in his thoughts had claimed his attention. When the Asset looked up he didn't offer whatever had been on his mind right away. "I fell..." He started softly and the Guardian winced. It was one of his more vivid memories, Bucky falling away into a deep snowy ravine. "They found me. My arm was gone. They cut into me and gave me a new one." He continued, looking at the metal hand as he moved it rather than the room's other occupants.

The Guardian shared a look with Banner. "I'm sorry, Sergeant, I'm afraid I can't confirm anything, but that is the most likely case." Banner offered gently and the Asset nodded before he allowed the hand to drop to the bed.

"I remember." The Guardian offered and the Asset jerked before he met the Guardian's eyes. "Seeing you fall. Feeling like my heart had been ripped out. It hurt more than The Chair." The Guardian whispered the last sentence, like it was only for the Asset.

Bruce remained silent, despite the questions he wanted to ask, as they stared at each other. There was something loving about the way they looked at each other that Bruce didn't have a name for because it was so pure. And that's when he remembered what the words on the Captain's thigh had said; 'My heart is Sgt. James Barnes'. They must have loved each other long before HYDRA got ahold of them.

Bruce let them have their moment, because if anyone deserved it it was the two men in front of him, before he coughed softly to get their attention. He hated to ruin the mood, but this seemed like the right time to ask. "You've mentioned a chair before. What is it?"

He didn't miss Barnes' flinch nor the way Rogers' tensed up. It fascinated Bruce, in a morose sad way, their different reactions. It was obvious that HYDRA had Barnes for longer because his reaction was subdued, resigned, and lacked Rogers' defensiveness. He had been broken enough not to fight back; Rogers still wasn't. Though to be fair, given everything he knew about Captain America, Bruce wasn't sure anyone _could_ actually break the man.

"The Chair was used as part of standard procedure after cryosleep and was used to wipe our memories after every mission or if echoes started occurring." Rogers answered, in a distinctly stiffer voice than he had before. It was far more like the one he'd had for the first days after the Avengers had taken them in, the one Bruce related to the Guardian more so than Steve Rogers.

But that philosophical mystery could wait because he was too busy being horrified of what the implications of The Chair were. "It was what wiped your memories? How?" Bruce asked.

"Electric impulses into the brain through external stimulators." Rogers answered, with an almost disconnected obedience. Bruce had to let out a slow breath to suppress the big guy, who was itching to get out and wreak havoc on HYDRA for all the harm they'd done to these men.

"Kind of like electroshock therapy. It's effective, I suppose. Painful and immoral and horrible, but effective." Bruce finally offered softly and Rogers nodded once in agreement. "And it would leave the kind of brain damage we've seen on both of you. We should do more scans today, to see how your healing has come along." He added and Rogers nodded.

"Shuri said the same yesterday, after the procedure." Rogers informed him. Bruce didn't say anything about Barnes' flinch at the word 'procedure' because Rogers didn't either.

"Alright, but first things first. You need to finish eating and we need to get some food into Sergeant Barnes." Bruce reminded and Rogers nodded. "I'll go get some. You should rest." He added to Barnes before he left the hospital room. He couldn't help glancing back towards the pair of them from the doorway.

Rogers stood at Barnes' left shoulder, actively focused on Barnes with careful intimate attention and subtly focused on everything else in the room. Bruce knew the shield would be within easy reach, despite the fact they were in a secure facility. Before now, he had wondered why HYDRA had kept the Asset and Guardian together. It made more sense to use them as independent agents, but looking at them now it would have never worked.

No matter what training or punishment HYDRA inflicted, no matter what memories they took, Rogers and Barnes had a connection that surpassed it. There was something intangible and unending between them. Bruce had never been a big believer in fate, but if anyone was destined for one another it was them. And it made him want to help them all the more because they of all people deserved their happiness after what HYDRA had done.


	12. Chapter 12

The first couple of days after Barnes' awakening were rough. He could stomach water and broth, but that was about it. He would switch randomly between being a scared kid with serious PTSD who understood what was going on even if it terrified him (which the medical staff had taken to calling Bucky moments) and blank, mindless, emotionless obedience (dubbed the Winter Soldier moments). Anything and everything could set off the switch and Bruce learned quickly there were miles of mindfields that could trigger everything from anxiety attacks to aggression to disassociation.

The dissociation worried him most, because when Barnes dissociated he'd obey anything he was told. Bruce hadn't realized it at first, not until they had finished the brain scans and even Barnes' metal arm was shaking but he hadn't said anything because he had been forceful, painfully trained not to say no and had been in that mindset during the test. Shortly after, while he was still quivering and despite the fact he'd been in a coma for five days, he stood when Bruce asked him to try getting up and promptly crumpled to the ground before Bruce could stop him. Bruce was very careful with his wording after that.

And there was no telling what would trigger Barnes' memory, nor what his reaction would be. The entire staff knew better than to approach him during an episode after he sent one of them flying across the room with his metal hand hard enough to knock the nurse out (luckily Barnes hadn't killed him). Stillness was still the most common response; Barnes would just freeze in place. His eyes would go blank and distant and he wouldn't respond to anything but commands. Aggression/panic was next; Barnes would curl up into a ball and rock or whimper and he would lash out at violently at anyone who came near.

Excluding Rogers. Rogers seemed to be the exception to every one of Barnes' typical reactions. With the very occasional exception of Bruce or when he was Winter Soldier obedient and asked a question, Barnes would only speak in a hushed whisper to Rogers, who would then voice the brunet's thoughts aloud if necessary. Rogers was the only one who could go near Barnes no matter what mindset or mood he was in without risking getting hurt. And he was the only one around which Barnes would cry.

By about day four Barnes was doing better. He was able to eat slightly heavier foods, which he devoured almost constantly which had helped him to gain back a tiny bit of weight. Bruce and Shuri agreed to get him started on physical therapy, which he took to eagerly. And he and Rogers spent most of their day looking over the files on the tablet together. They were both flourishing from the regular food and sleep, from being somewhere safe and from being allowed (even encouraged) to re-discover their memories.

Barnes was able to walk down the hall without any outside support excluding the wall or Rogers' arm within a week. He wasn't supposed to be doing anything more strenuous, but Bruce was quite sure Barnes had started working out with Rogers in the early mornings. But he was putting on weight and muscle quickly and had pretty much adapted to the metal arm already, surpassing even Shuri's expectations. So he was willing to let it go.

Shuri had just finished Barnes' physical therapy and Bruce had brought the supersoldiers their lunch (second lunch, more accurately) when the call came in. Rogers' instantly put himself between Barnes and the television, but when Bruce accepted the incoming call he relaxed slightly. Looking back at them was Tony, shifting in a seat and even gnawing on his lip nervously. "Hey, all." Tony greeted with a false pleasantness. "Nice to see you awake, robocop." He added to Barnes, whose expression was blank except for the hint of a frown on his lips.

"Tony. What's going on?" Bruce stepped in to get the billionaire back on track.

"Right, right. So… We have a problem." Tony announced.

Bruce groaned. "A Code Green kind of problem?" Bruce asked heavily and couldn't deny he was grateful when Tony shook his head.

"Nope. More like a PR problem." He corrected and Bruce frowned. It wouldn't be the first time one of the Avengers had ended up on the news in the wrong way, but they'd been doing well and Bruce hadn't heard anything about any incidents lately.

"Okay…" Bruce muttered, waiting for Tony to go on. The billionaire sighed heavily again and the screen suddenly split into two with one side showing Tony and the other showing a news report. About the Avengers fight against Rogers and Barnes. How they had gotten that footage, Bruce didn't know, but even with the mask on Barnes' face, the black clothes, and the general scruffiness of them both it was fairly obvious who Rogers was. And if Rogers could be easily identified there was no doubt someone would figure out the other super soldier was Barnes.

Bruce took a breath before reading what the scrolling text actually said. 'Captain America - An Agent of HYDRA? Experts believe his companion to be James Buchanan Barnes.' On and on it went. Bruce sighed heavily; if the news was already conjecturing as to Barnes' identity correctly there was no doubt it would be as confirmed as the footage would allow in a matter of hours. Tony usually under-exaggerated things, but this… This was so much more than a simple 'PR problem'.

"And that's not even the worst part." Tony finally muttered, drawing Bruce from his thoughts. "I've already gotten a call from Ross, demanding to know the truth and insisting we bring them both in immediately and turn them over so they can go on trial."

Bruce groaned heavily and buried his face in his hands. "What did you tell him?" Bruce asked weakly through his hands.

"Uh… nothing. I put him on hold until he hung up." Tony informed him and Bruce couldn't help snickering under his breath. Because of course Tony would.

"So what do we do now?" Bruce asked and Tony shrugged.

"I don't have the slightest clue." Tony admitted. "Well, besides telling you to keep the two super soldiers in Wakanda until further notice because T'Challa won't extradite them."

Bruce sighed and nodded. "Not a terrible plan, I suppose, on such short notice. Do you need me back in New York?"

"Better not. They'll just start hounding you too. We'll handle it." Tony promised.

"Can we help at all?" Tony actually jumped when Steve spoke.

"Uh, at the moment, I don't know. I'm sure we'll need testimonies from you both eventually, but unless you've got any evidence beyond yourselves of what happened to you…" Tony left it open ended.

Steve frowned, considering it. Bucky tugged his sleeve and Steve bent down to listen to him. He nodded then looked at Tony. "HYDRA has records. We might be able to get them." Steve offered and Tony paused himself.

"Maybe, eventually. If the Avengers can't. We don't want you two getting re-brainwashed or something." Tony said and Steve accepted it with a simple tilt of his head. Tony twisted to look at something out of their view. "Got to go. Pep's here. I'll call as soon as I have more." The call ended with that abrupt goodbye and Bruce sighed.

"This is such a mess." He muttered before he turned to Shuri. "Shuri, any luck with figuring out how to remove the brainwashing?"

"Some, but it's delicate work. The Guardian will be much easier to help but it'll take time." Shuri said and for the first time the Guardian wasn't comfortable with being called that.

He must have made a noise because Shuri looked at him. "Steve… is good." He corrected softly and she smiled.

"Alright, Steve. Now, you know what I think? I think we need to do something different today. You two up to going outside? It's about time you got to see our beautiful city." Shuri offered. Steve turned to Bucky and they had a silent conversation with their eyes before Steve held out his arm and helped Bucky to stand.

"Um, are you sure you can handle this, Sergeant Barnes?" Bruce asked, obviously worried and hands out like he might push Bucky back into the bed if he noticed any sign of weakness.

"Yes." Bucky answered firmly. And it was Bucky, not the Winter Soldier, who made the statement. He even met Bruce's eyes and Bruce swallowed.

"Well, the fresh air would do you good. Just, let us know right away if you feel weak, okay?" Bruce insisted and Bucky met Steve's eyes. It was the same look the brunet often gave him, the one in which he was rolling his eyes without actually rolling them, and Steve couldn't help smiling to himself.

They followed Shuri from the hospital room and down the halls to one of the exits Steve had noticed early on. She set her hand against the keypad and the door opened. Both soldiers paused, inhaling deeply as the scents of the outside world came to them. For Steve, it was not unlike his first deep breath when waking up from cryosleep. Given the way Bucky swayed at his side, his treasure was feeling much the same. Bucky stepped forward first and Steve stepped forward at almost the same time, since Bucky was holding onto his arm to help keep his balance. He didn't actually need it, but they both knew the value of being underestimated if it came to a fight. One that neither of them actually wanted, but the habit was ingrained.

The city itself was gorgeous, just as Shuri had promised. The Wakandans were pleasant and friendly, even if he, Bucky, and Bruce got some curious looks. But they weren't afraid. Their clothes were interesting; brightly colored and Steve could see how Bucky's eyes traveled around rapidly taking them all in. Steve was just savoring the feeling of sunlight on his skin.

They were walking through a large open air marketplace when Bucky tugged on his arm. Immediately Steve's attention was on him, searching his face and body for any discomfort or pain. That wasn't what he saw though. Bucky's eyes were wide and he looked genuinely excited. "Look." The word was soft enough only Steve could hear, of course, and Bucky motioned towards someone.

Steve looked where Bucky was gesturing. The person he had pointed out seemed to be a fairly ordinary young man, about their age. He was organizing materials behind a slightly older man who had to be his father, who was manning the stall itself. Steve glanced back at Bucky. "What is it?" He asked.

"He has earrings." Bucky commented and Steve looked. Sure enough, the young man did. Bright, colorful ones that stood out against his skin. The Guardian had seen men with earrings before, but Steve understood why Bucky was commenting on it. In their Before, it was something only the bravest of gay men would do and they would never have been so brightly colored or obvious.

"Yes, he is." Steve answered, even though it was clear Bucky wasn't expecting him to. During the rest of their walk Bucky seemed distracted; not withdrawn in the Winter Soldier way, but like he was thinking hard about something.

Shuri and Bruce noticed too and they wrapped up the walk not long after. In the hospital room Steve sat down with the paper sketchpad and charcoal he'd gotten from one of the stalls. Bucky took the tablet and they settled into an easy silence, each caught up in what they were doing. Steve had almost completed a sketch of Bucky, of this Bucky sitting on the bed with the tablet and a black metal arm. He was surprised and pleased to know he could still do a good job. He wasn't as good as he had been in the sketchbooks from Before, but for 70 years without practice he was pleased.

"Steve." Bucky's voice had him on his feet immediately and the brunet gave him a look that said 'calm down' before Steve had even fully realized he was concerned. "Look at this." He offered the tablet once Steve's heart stopped beating at a fight-ready pace and Steve took it.

It was open on an article from the internet. Steve read through it quickly, and then read through it again because it seemed so unbelievable. He knew things had changed, but this was something else entirely. "This is… real?" Steve asked and Bucky nodded.

He took back the tablet and quickly showed Steve a handful of various tabs, showing Bucky's search progression. It had started with him looking at pictures of men's earrings, resulting in one enlarged picture of a man on a street during an event of some kind, dressed in revealing rainbow-colored clothing and on his shirt it said 'Gay Pride'. Which Bucky had searched and there were thousands of pages of results. Articles just like the one he'd shown Steve, about homosexuality and how it was natural. Websites with stories and events; hundreds of them, all dedicated to the topic in some form or another.

Bruce entered the room with a large tray of food and paused when he saw them looking so intently at the tablet. "Hey, everything okay?"

"This." Steve opened the original article and held it out. Bruce glanced at it and nodded, only to freeze in place.

"Oh my god, you guys had no idea, did you?" Bruce finally said and both soldiers shook their heads. "I can't believe I didn't realize that you wouldn't have. But, yeah. It's a totally real, totally natural thing. In a lot of countries you can even get legally married and we're working on making it that way everywhere." Bruce added.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, but it was less of a silent conversation this time because amazement and cautious optimism was written all over their faces. Steve bent down suddenly and kissed Bucky on the lips. Bruce couldn't help blushing when Bucky responded, lacing his fingers into Steve's hair like a lifeline. After about a minute Bruce coughed and they separated abruptly. Steve was actually blushing slightly while Bucky was glaring at him.

"You guys should eat before the food gets cold." Bruce offered as he held out the tray. They accepted it and Steve settled onto Bucky's bed with him. They were closely pressed together without even an inch between their bodies, but neither seemed to mind. It was obvious to Bruce they wanted to be left alone though. Bruce paused in the doorway and added "You know, if you wanted to get married I'm sure T'Challa would be happy to officiate." before he left.

Bucky nuzzled against Steve the moment Bruce was out of the room and Steve couldn't help running his fingers through his brunet's hair. "What do you think, Buck? Wanna get hitched?" Steve asked, taking himself by surprise by how relaxed it sounded. His Brooklyn accent was in full force, an echo of words he had said once so many years ago under the cover of night, right before Bucky had shipped off to war.

"Don't need to marry you to know I love you." Bucky replied with the same relaxed ease, just like he had then. Steve settled against the pillows and held Bucky tighter.

"Love you too." Steve whispered and it made his own heart skip a beat to be saying it again.

Bucky kissed the part of Steve's chest that was under his head and they stayed like that for a few seconds, comfortable and warm. Then Bucky spoke up and stated "I think I want to get my ears pierced." Steve couldn't help but laugh and kiss his head.

"I'm sure you'd look dashing." He promised.

"Nah, but it might make me look more intimidating." Bucky replied and even stuck out his tongue teasingly. Steve just laughed and kissed him, following that tongue back into Bucky's mouth eagerly. It may have been thirty years or more, but he found he could make Bucky moan just as easily as before. And Bucky gave as good as he got.


End file.
